


On Rose's Wings

by TwinHits



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 01:50:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 45,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9945044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwinHits/pseuds/TwinHits
Summary: There are real life Jedi and also it's a musical.





	

~On Rose’s Wings~

 

 

~Act One~

~The Strongest Among You May Not Wear a Crown~ 

"Why don't you just dance?"  
The way she said it made it seem easy. He had been staring from the edge of the dance floor ever since he had gotten off stage. He could hear the club music and feel the bass reverberating through the walls, but he couldn't get into it. It wasn’t his music, it was just loud music. He couldn’t hear her words, just read them off her lips. He wouldn't even have known she was addressing him if not for the gentle hand on his shoulder that had turned him away from the bar.  
"But I don't know how."  
His voice felt so low, even before it was swallowed up by the bass. She smiled at him, and then she reached out her hand.  
"Then come with me.  
He awkwardly wiped his hands on his worn and torn jeans. It hadn't occurred to him that they were still sweaty until he had seen her hand rise and open.  
He took it, and then she turned and led him swiftly towards the roaring crowd, her rich long brown hair and pale back a guiding light as they weaved through the club's entranced patrons.  
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kyle, his lead vocal and bass playing bandmate, wave at him with an encouraging smile before returning his attention back to a short, black haired, and chatty new friend.  
Finally they weaved into the center of the pulsating crowd. She let go of his hand, leaned in closer, and whispered into his ear.  
"Listen, then move. It's okay, it's not hard."  
She stepped backwards, pulled him in with her and let the bodies close around them. There she found something in the music that brought her hands up through her hair and moved her to the beat. He didn't know what it was, but everyone else in the club seemed to be able feel it too. He knew what it felt like when the music flowed out from the pick between his fingers, but he didn’t know where they found it now.  
"I-I'm sorry, I don't feel it."  
He reddened, awkwardly pulled away, and climbed out of the mess towards the bar where he had started. He was back in his chosen stool and back to staring down at the dark, slightly sticky, hardwood bar top.  
There was no space in his life for anyone else, any room in his heart had already been claimed by something far bigger than him or her. This was wise, he assured himself, this way everyone is safer. It's not like if he had gone to her, he'd have any idea what to do anyway. It didn't mean if life were any different, his hands would be any less sweaty.  
He felt the stool next to him slide out, and saw her elbows rest on the bar to match his.  
"Fine then, what’s your name?"  
The answer was a lot more complicated than the simple question that prompted it might make it seem. She didn't have to know that.  
"My name is Ryan."  
"My name is Sarah. Why are you so scared?"  
Her question surprised him, but he knew the answer and it was simple. It was also stupid. And cheesy. And still stupid.  
It was just because she was a girl. It was because she had brown eyes and was tall enough that she would only have to look up slightly to meet his own. Beauty is in context and in this time, place, and light she was beautiful.  
"I'm scared of you."  
She smiled and snorted laughter, then looked away for a brief moment, as if to feign slight embarrassment. He was painfully aware of his nervous sweat, but she did not seem to care. Thank you.  
"I'm not very scary, and I'm not going to hurt you."  
No, of course she wasn't. She was just some girl who had watched them play out their set, came up to him sitting alone staring at the dance floor, and then asked him a question. He talked to girls all the time, and that was no big deal. Ok, fine, just Ashley, but that totally counts. Plus nothing scared him, he did not have time for fear.  
But this was a girl. That was special. And scary.  
He opened his mouth to respond to her, but instead his stomach dropped, a familiar sensation drove him to turn around and leave her unanswered. The double front doors to the club burst open and men dressed in unmarked black body armor and helmets streamed through. They spread out around the dance floor. The lights went on, the music stopped, and several drinks went out of sight.  
The crowd stopped moving and went silent, every set of eyes were on the rifles they carried.  
The officers paused for a moment, and then the one in front shot the ceiling. Everyone hit the floor. Several people screamed. One person began crying. All that Ryan felt was the sudden calm that washed away the dread and the sweat. Evil was terribly predictable, messengers and messages.  
He turned back towards the bar and stared back down at the bar top. He knew that this singled him out, but that was a sacrifice he’d have to make. The sooner they found him, the sooner everyone else was safe.  
The man who had shot the ceiling, the Sergeant, Ryan decided, addressed the crowd.  
"Alright, everyone get out and go home. We're closed."  
He let out his held breath. Maybe it would be okay. Maybe they just wanted to talk. Maybe he would just have to come up with a convincing story. Who’s never been singled out at a club by mysterious officers of the law, but back at university the next day with no explanation?  
"Not you."  
Sarah dropped quickly back down in her stool. Not good, he thought. They figured that she was important. She was only important to him.  
The officers closed in around them as terrified club rats streamed out the door trying to stay as far away from the guns as they could. As soon as they were gone, Ryan heard the rifles swing up behind the officer’s backs and get replaced with something smaller and plastic. Single shot tasers. Ryan was relieved. They only wanted to talk, just not give him any choice in the matter.  
"State your name."  
The Sergeant’s question hovered in his mind both because of how it echoed the question he just answered and for how much more important the answer he gave this one would be. He did not have the luxury of the simple way out this time, there’s only one way this story ends. This answer echoed through the silent and empty room, spoken with a voice strong and unwavering.  
"My name is Ryan, I am a Jedi Knight in service of the Order."  
He felt Sarah’s shock and the Sergeant’s satisfaction ripple through the Force.  
"Good. You are going come with me. If you refuse, we will restrain you then I'll simply drag you along with me."  
"I'm sorry, but I don't go home with strangers."  
"I'm afraid that I’m going to have to insist."  
Afraid. Now a strange word. Just minutes before he had been wallowing in fear. Now, all the fear was in her and none of it in him.  
He slowly turned his head towards Sarah and met her wide open eyes with his.  
"Forgive me."  
He spun on the stool, rose, and hit the Sergeant in the face, knocking his helmet askew. His other hand curled into a fist which met the Sergeant's stomach. Ryan heard the sound of six tasers firing and summoned his stool from bar. It flew past him in an arc stopping five of the shots while a dropped drink intercepted the shot of the officer with slightly slower reflexes.  
The half dozen remaining officers dropped their now useless tasers and began to draw their rifles from their backs. By the time the first taser was halfway to the floor, Ryan was already at the closest officer. He kneed the officer in the stomach and slammed his elbow into the back of the officer’s helmet while he was doubled over. He shifted his body to let a swung rifle butt narrowly miss him before grabbing the arm, pulling it over his shoulder, and sending it and its owner flying into a third officer. Both men sailed across the room and slammed into the far wall and collapsed into a heap.  
The remaining three were several feet away from him, which he took stepping into the air. He snapped out with each leg, kicking the first two in the face before spinning and landing a third kick on the side of the last officer's head with such force that he spun horizontally and slammed his helmet on the bar top and lay still.  
"Stop."  
The chilling voice came just as he landed. He turned around to find the Sergeant had gotten up, removed his twisted helmet, and now held a terrified Sarah in a headlock with his sidearm to her head. They stared at each other for a moment before Ryan dropped his guard and held out his hands.  
"Fine."

~  
"Good morning, everyone."  
The pre-class conversation ground slowly to a stop. This was no one's favorite class. The professor was old, tired, and had tenure.  
"Before we begin the lecture, I have an announcement to make. I have never really been interested in foreign and domestic policy and, for the fourth year in a row, I have requested permission to teach on my favored subject, the Jedi Knight."  
The class was silent and very confused. They had all heard of the Jedi, both through the popular Hollywood movies and in reference to a sort of mythical order of laser sword-wielding evil-fighting warriors. It was still myth though, one with only slightly more credence than Bigfoot.  
"I was again refused for the dean does not believe them worthy of study. I proceeded to tender my resignation effective at the end of the week. That means we have two more sessions of this class which we will be spending discussing something far more interesting than who’s screwing up the Middle East today. Any questions so far?"  
There continued to be silence. One hand slowly rose into the air.  
"Will this be on the final?"  
The professor smiled. "Probably not. But it would do you well to listen because this is actually important. Thus, we will begin at the beginning."  
The professor tapped his keyboard and the projector screen behind him came alive from black to a strange symbol. It was silver, glossy, and formed a circle surrounding a cross between a temple and a fist.  
"What is the Order?"

~  
The world is a broken and sinful place, and Jaster hated it. Hope for a better world, he always told himself, maybe we can make tomorrow a better day. Though in reality, it just felt like they were delaying the inevitable. Everyone dies someday.  
He escaped by painting. He was always painting. Tonight, he was deep in the subway when he stepped back and took in the mural in front of him as a whole for the first time. It was beautiful, colorful, and it told a subtle story and in it others would find deep commentary on the world’s affairs.  
It disappointed him though. Jaster sighed and turned to leave. When he had been painting it, his mind had been filled with form, structure, and meaning. With each brushstroke he had been adding to a more complete portrait. Yet, again, when he came out of his meditation, it might as well have been graffiti. It had no real purpose. It was also doomed to someday wither away.  
He turned and left the subway, silently vaulting the eight foot plywood construction barriers that blocked the entrance. Pausing to turn and straighten the NO TRESPASSING sign, a feeling brushed past him like a strong wind pulling a leaf down the empty street into the night. He turned instinctively and his eyes followed the invisible footsteps of someone who had drawn upon the Force.  
The use of the Force always left a trace distinctive to the user, but he did not recognize this trace. For example, Ashley's trace smelled like flowers freshly cut and shampooed hair, felt like comfortable trustworthy shoes, or sounded like a song you've heard before but were trying to remember. This one was different though, it was just malevolence. There was nothing special or symbolic linking it back to the personality of its owner, nothing as complex as what he would expect. It was simply malevolence. Jaster smiled, evil was terribly predictable, he had once heard his master say.  
But he was the Watchmen, and it was his job to know every trace, who they belonged to, and to find whatever they might be hiding  
To his chagrin, this trace was unfamiliar. He looked down the street and could almost see it heading away from him, swirling up into the air, and funneling around the top floor of one of the city's countless unnamed office buildings like a silent storm. He didn't have a choice but to follow the trace, that's what being a Jedi was about, as he had been constantly reminded. You had duty, there was no choice because the choice was clear. His own feelings did not matter, all that mattered what the fight continued and the will of the Force was served.  
He entered the building, and the elevator opened for him welcomingly before carrying him swiftly towards the top while he stood with his hands poised by his side wallowing in the weird contrast of the gentle elevator music and the malevolent trace that he was following.  
At the top was at a pair of glass doors that looked into a nearly empty conference room. In it was a large table surrounded by high powered chairs and at the end, a dark figure, looking out of the windowed walls at the cityscape around it. It was staring down at a flat, grey building. The local police station, Jaster knew. Waiting patiently and biding its time.  
Jaster opened the door and stepped inside. Picturesquely, the figure turned around. Its dark cloak flowed away from it as it moved and rested its hands upon the back of the chair in front of him. Its gloves and armor were jet black matte and covered everything save for its hooded face, shrouded by pitch black darkness instead.  
Jaster did not move. He did not approach for the figure in front of him seemed so empty. It felt like nothing but a shell filled with hate and anger instead of life. Yet, despite the emptiness, the glowering figure still stood in front of him. He only assumed it was glowering, it didn't appear to be anything but glower.  
"Who are you?" Jaster asked cautiously. No answer. Then again, it seemed to consider its own existence an answer. To say that it emanated darkness would be too romantic. It was Darkness. It did not need to answer because every answer would be the same thing. Just Darkness.  
Jaster took a step further into the room and spoke louder, "Do you know who I am?"  
Contempt filled the air. Darkness does not care.  
"I am a Jedi Knight. I exist to bring hope to the world, to serve and protect. I guard the guards, I watch the watchmen."  
Darkness still did not move, yet in the back of Jaster's mind, someone was laughing. Laughing at him.  
"I am the most powerful being you have ever set eyes on!"  
The laughter stopped, instead Jaster was certain Darkness was raising his eyebrows. Darkness is not impressed. Darkness cares little how powerful you think are.  
Slowly, Darkness moved. It raised its head until the room's light began to sneak through the shadows. As they parted, they revealed a face Jaster knew well. A face formerly familiar now grayed, angry, corrupted, withered, and torn apart by destruction and hare.  
No, he thought, and he understood. True fear gripped him. He had to end Darkness and end it now. It's not like he had a choice.

~  
"Would you like a drink, Master Jedi?"  
"No, thank you."  
Ryan was in an interrogation room of a local police station. Swinging light bulb, boring grey walls, one way glass, table and two chairs, it had the works. At least he wasn’t chained to the table or anything, he guessed they knew better than to bother. Across from him sat an older gentleman, comfortable into middle aged, dressed in a dark business suit and black tie with a silver clip. They had been staring at each other for the past several minutes. Ryan was good at staring back at people.  
"You know Jedi can read minds." Ryan lied, hoping to sense a surge of panicked emotion.  
The suited man simply continued to stare.  
"Well, it was worth a shot, I guess."  
Something has gone terribly wrong. No one really believed the Jedi existed. Even then those that did had scant evidence to back up their claims. He knew that those who were certain would never tell anyone, for who would believe them? Real Jedi Knights? Don't be ridiculous.  
Slowly, the suited man brought up a briefcase onto the table and withdrew a folder from it. He opened the folder, then leaned it up so that Ryan could not see into it, and began to nod and read aloud.  
"Jedi Master Ryan, no other name on record. Eighteen years old, knighted at age twelve, appointed Jedi Master at age fourteen-"  
Now something wasn't just terribly wrong, but confusingly wrong. None of this made any sense at all. The suited man could not possibly know this.  
Against the suited man's will, the folder tore itself from his hands and flattened against the table. The papers inside flew up and arrayed themselves midair in front of Ryan. They turned around, flipped back around again, and then upside down before returning to their folder and back into the suited man's waiting hands. They were blank.  
The suited man continued to read as if nothing truly extraordinary had happened at all.  
"In the last year since Rosslyn, Jedi Master Ryan has been a frequent visitor to the White House, working to integrate the Order into the modern world. Rumored to have a close personal relationship with the President."  
This was also true and made the suited man one of the most informed people in the world. The suited man put the folder down and folded his hands on the table. Ryan mimicked then spoke.  
"You are not law enforcement."  
The suited man did not object.  
"Since you are not law enforcement, you cannot hold me here.” Ryan leaned back in his chair, and gestured for the suited man to continue. “But, for the sake of pure curiosity, I will hear you out."  
The suited man smiled at his cooperation.  
"To make it simple and straightforward, we would like you to kindly give up any attempts to make yourself relevant, disappear, and tell your masters to do the same. There is no place in the world for the Jedi."  
Ryan was stunned.  
The suited man continued. "If you refuse, we will, regrettably, have to force the issue. It's for the greater good. The Jedi are far too dangerous to run loose in the world."  
Ryan's eyes narrowed. "The Jedi are self-controlling by nature. I appreciate the offer, but I’m not interested. We know our duty."  
“Wouldn’t you like to discuss it with your fellow Jedi?”  
“So you can follow me back to them? I speak for the Jedi, and I’m still not interested.”  
"Yet, you answer to no one. If you wish to be accepted by the world, you must accept the world's rules. Who will guard the guards, yes?"  
The suited man paused for effect as if this statement trumped all responses. That was the thing about old sayings and adages, you said them and no one could say anything back. Ryan hated them.  
"The Jedi only need the will of the Force to guide them, the Force doesn’t answer to anyone, and neither do we. The world's rules do not apply."  
"The will of the Force, of course. So when the Jedi decides something is wrong, then it is simply his responsibility to act regardless of the law?"  
"The will of the Force defines good and evil and decides what actions we must take."  
The suited man cocked his head to the side and smiled. "Ah, so a mystical power that only few can feel, or even believe, exists defines good and evil? The Jedi are the judge, the jury, and the executioner of their own brand of justice."  
"I will happily discuss philosophy with you all night, but I'm afraid you haven't shared your name."  
"It is impolite to ask for a name without offering one's own."  
"You already know my name, it really is just Ryan."  
"Maybe there is someone else who would be more willing to help with our reasonable requests."  
"Let her go, she- she doesn't know anything." Ryan shot of the chair, surprised by his own anger He knew that he had just revealed his hand. Sarah knew nothing about the Jedi and had just been thrust into the situation for no other reason than for coming over and talking to him.  
The suited man stood. "Perhaps there is still more for us to learn, for I would very much like to speak to your fellow Jedi. Maybe you don’t speak for them all."  
As he took the folder and turned to leave, Ryan's quietly spoken words echoed through the small room.  
"Knowing as much as you think you do, do you really think that you can keep me here?"  
The suited man paused for a moment before turning back to Ryan still angry face.  
"No." Then he opened the door, and left.

~  
Ryan hated just wandering around on campus. Technically, he hated university, but he was supposed to be blending in. He was a few days in and he was still just wandering around aimlessly when he wasn't supposed to be somewhere. He could be using this time to train or meditate, but that wasn't the point. The whole idea was that he was supposed to understand how the world really worked, taking some time to be someone other than a Jedi. Meet real people and do real things. It sounded like a good idea at the time when the President requested it.  
This leg of his wandering always brought him through the music department. This time, however, he was greeted by an open practice room complete with a full band setup and, more importantly, a very lonely looking electric guitar. It would be a shame to leave it there alone, and playing the guitar would be pretty normal to others, maybe even be considered cool by random passers-by.  
Ryan loved the guitar, it had always been a sacred refuge in his life so it was easy to just walk in, turn on the amp, and begin to play. When you think of an ancient order of warrior-monks you generally imagine them meditating in front of a fig tree or practicing kung fu underneath the waterfall, not rocking out alone in their room on an electric guitar.  
Soon enough though, his eyes were closed, his mind was open, and his fingers were moving by themselves. It was so much simpler than fighting. There were rules, constraints, and much less maneuvering room on the strings. When you played music you were building something up, not tearing something down.  
Slowly Ryan became aware that he had an audience and once he was, he immediately stopped playing. He looked up to see that two boys had entered the room and were staring at him with their jaws somewhere near the floor.  
"Holy shit, dude, who the fuck are you and wanna join a band?"

~  
As soon as the door shut behind the suited man, Ryan rose and proceeded straight to it. He planted his palm in the center of the door and it swung open with to a sickening crunch and a yelp from the other side. An armored and helmeted officer turned into the doorframe with his sidearm already halfway to bear. Ryan brought his forearm up to throw off his aim before bringing his other hand up to grab the officer and toss him into the interrogation room. The officer stumbled to the floor as the door slammed shut, causing the other crushed and unconscious officer to fall from behind it and into a heap on the floor.  
Ahead of him was only one door and a hallway to the left. He quickly walked towards the door, one objective foremost in his mind. Having heard the commotion, two more armored officers turned the corner from the hallway with their pistols raised. Ryan shot forward buried his fist into the neck of the first officer and spun around leading with the other fist to knock him down before dropping to the floor to sweep the legs out from under the second officer.  
He continued towards the single door and put his hand on the handle before taking a deep breath. He opened the door to reveal an open cubicle bullpen with officers in cover behind office furniture and around corners framing an identical interrogation room to his own. Inside that room, he felt one strong and terrified presence.  
A memory came to him, one from an evening that now seems a lifetime previously. He was standing in front of the crowd, the three of them: bass, drums, and guitar. His fingers were moving, guided by the Force, with Kyle's gruff voice cutting through the air.  
"Beyond the boundaries of your city's lights, stand the heroes waiting for your cry. So many times you did not bring this on yourself. But when that moment finally comes, I'll be there to help."  
He knew he was making a choice, surely the will of the Force would want him to abandon attachment. But that wasn't right, there was someone in that room and he was the only one who could help her. He dropped his right hand to his side and let himself fall into the Force.  
"And on that day, when you need a brother, a sister to care." A long, slightly curved, metal hilt appeared as if it had always been clipped to his belt, as if the onlooker had just always failed to notice it. Without a sound he unclipped it, and spun it in his hand as it snap-hissed into a silver blade.  
"I'll be right here!"  
At the sight of the Jedi's lightsaber, the officers opened fire. He stepped in, turning, his eyes closed in concentration. His weapon spun about him in an intricate pattern turning bullets into grey dust with a slight puff of evaporating gunpowder. As he came around again to face the front, he let his body do the dodging, only using his saber to block the true threats as he walked slowly towards his attacker. Their shock and awe rolled off them in waves.  
"And the people crying in the streets, when they're sobbing for a meal to eat. For when they simply need a place to make their beds, right here underneath my wings, you can rest your head."  
Jaster ran the length of the table, flipping sideways halfway across to conceal the drawing of his green lightsaber before bringing it up for an overhead slash aimed at his opponent's chest. Darkness threw its arm behind his back and drew into existence its own crimson red blade emitting from a black hilt. The dark figure brought it up to deflect the overhead blow then down low to stop the follow up swing at its legs. Darkness brought its blade back up for a vicious side-sweep, but it was caught by Jaster's elegant parry from behind the back.  
Jaster stepped back and lunged, pressing the attack against his taller opponent. Darkness sidestepped, brought his fist down on the inside of Jaster's arm before landing a thrust kick that sent him sailing across the room and into the overly large chairs surrounding the conference room table.  
"Citizen/Soldier, holding the life of the ones that we guide from the dark of despair. Standing on guard for the ones that we shelter, we'll always be ready because we will always be there..."  
The set was over and he was exhilerated. For all the countless hours he had ever played, for all the love he had ever poured into his art, he had never played for an audience before. No one had ever cheered for him or encouraged him. His music had been for him and him alone. Now, it seemed the whole world had turned to him, full on in their attention. The crowd roared and cheered while a heavy hand clapped on his shoulder. It belonged to Kyle who said something about the bartender and owing Ryan a drink.  
"There..."  
Watching himself stare at the dance floor, he turned to see a girl, at first just as nervous as he had been, make her way across the club and sit down next to him and ask a simple question. Strange that such a small choice would lead them to here.  
"There..."  
That memory was all that seemed important to him as he walked through the room amidst a storm of gunfire. This was his music, created by him and flowing through him. Each rhythmic step took him farther down his chosen path, his choice.  
He had never felt this powerful before, for surely this is the will of the Force.  
"Hope and pray that you never need me, but rest assured I will not let you down. I walk besides you but you may not see me, the strongest among you may not wear a crown!"  
A break in the gunfire, and Ryan ended it. He brought a hand up and one of the officers flew backwards into the reloading officer behind him. A metal cabinet the officer was hiding behind flew up and hit another while a desk flew into orbit around Ryan and began absorbing incoming shots. Ryan deactivated his lightsaber and began to rise slowly off the floor. His eyes closed and arms spread out as he fell further back into the Force, letting its current flow through him and direct his every move. Office furniture flew around him like a shield, breaking apart from the shots. Office supplies rose into the air and peppered their former masters while their bodies were thrown about before being slammed unconscious against the walls. Soon the room was still once again.  
"Citizen/Soldier. Holding the life of the ones that we guide from the dark of despair."  
Darkness was taller than he was and had a much longer reach. Jaster bounced from chair to table to wall in order land blows from every angle, but the crimson red blade was always there.  
Jaster paused for a moment to reconsider his strategy, to which Darkness responded by effortlessly flicking a large chair at him. Jaster dropped to dodge, allowing the chair to fly over him and crash through the window, and launched himself head first with his green blade spinning before him. He was suddenly stopped as Darkness caught his arms, blade still lit, and slammed him to the table, pinning him against it. Jaster could feel its laughter as it brought its weapon up to behead him, but a free leg bounced against an armored kidney. Distracted by the satisfying dong, Jaster used the moment to wrench himself free, duck under the restraining arm and leap up to deliver a fierce spinning kick against his opponent's head.  
But Darkness' hand was already there in Jaster's chest, throwing him back into the chairs. Instead of veering for another attack, Jaster bounded out the broken window, grabbed the sill and leapt to the roof. Leaping to the next building over, Jaster hazarded a look behind him. Darkness was gone.  
"Citizen/Soldier."  
Ryan strode forward. The office was a waste. Deep down he knew that he was not in control, but if the Force was lending him so much of its power, then this must be right. However, he knew that he had come here on instinct, on a primal urge he didn’t want to think about.  
"Standing on guard for the ones that we shelter."  
But now there was nothing more important to him than opening that door and seeing her, eyes swollen from the tears and filled with fright. Nothing seemed more urgent than to offer his hand, take hers, and run away to safety.  
"We'll always be ready."  
He told himself he was doing his duty, saving an innocent from injustice and resisting the suited man in the name of the Force. Deep down though, he knew it simply because a girl had seen him play, seen him across the dance floor, and had judged him worthy.  
"Because we will always be there."

 

~It’s a Crazy, Beautiful Life~ 

As soon as they stepped into her apartment, she got as far away from him as she could. He stayed his distance, near the door. She was extremely angry, he could feel it radiating out of her in waves. She glared back at him from across her living room.  
“Why are you still here?”  
“I had to make sure that you were okay, I’m sorry for what I put you through, I hope you’ll forgive me.”  
Keeping the couch in between the two of them, she looked at him like he could not possibly actually be standing in the same room as her, that such a possibility was so ridiculous it should be dismissed immediately.  
“Is this real life? Men with guns came for you and then they took me too. Who the hell are you?”  
“I told you, my name is Ryan.”  
“Oh stop it, it was cute at the club, but ‘Ryan’ doesn’t get pulled out of a club and into an unmarked van.”  
Exasperated, she threw her hands up and turned away again. Ryan tried to back even farther into the corner by the door, but instead just ended up knocking over an umbrella stand. He caught it with his foot, and managed to replace it before she looked at him again.  
“Can you even drink?”  
“Technically no, but I don’t think anyone is going to try to stop me.”  
“Yeah, I could tell from the bodies as you dragged me out of that place.” She snarled, and then her face broke in realization. “That was the first time I’ve ever seen a dead person.”  
“They weren’t dead.”  
“What?”  
“They were not dead. I did not kill them.”  
She paused. He could see all the night’s events adding up in her head.  
“You really are a Jedi?”  
He nodded. She sighed and sat down on the couch, and put her head in her hands.  
Patiently waiting, he took a look around the room. The apartment wasn’t large, just a living room, a small kitchen, and a short hallway leading to the bedroom. The entire wall in front of him was taken up by windowed doors leading out a sixth floor balcony. In front of her couch was a small coffee table, hosting a single red rose in a small vase. Feeling slightly more welcome, he stepped forward.  
“I know you’re angry, I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”  
She didn’t respond at first, and when she did, her voice came out kind of muffled from the couch.  
“You keep saying that. Why do you keep saying that?”  
“It’s... very important to me.”  
“We’ll see. I’m still kinda drunk.” She sat up, kind of dazed. “Why are you still here?”  
“I wanted to make sure--”  
“That I’m alright. Sure. Ok. But why do you care?”  
“It’s my fault this happened. You were used against me by my enemies. I’m sorry. I didn’t even really know I had enemies.”  
She turned and put her arms on the back of the couch, looking at him.  
“Stop saying that. ‘You’re sorry’. Great? It doesn’t make a difference.”  
“The difference matters to me. There’s enough evil in the world as it is, never leave the evil we do to each other unforgiven.”  
“Wow, so deep.” She rolled her eyes. “You really are a Jedi, aren’t you? Honorable, aloft, pacifist, total prude?”  
“Well, yes. I guess. It’s a little more complicated than that.”

~  
The crime scene had been abandoned for the night; the detectives had already come and gone taking the bodies and the evidence with them. All that was left was the damage to the ground, a deep scar left for the city to patch up. To Jaster, this was just another sign of a broken world drowning in sin, another two young men left dead in an alleyway with no names, no pasts, and no unfortunately now no future. It always comes too soon.  
This was what he hated, pulled from trying to understand why Darkness had appeared to him and back into the night, surrounded once again by evil. It was everywhere he turned, he could never get away from it.  
Around him he could sense the faint confusion in the alleyway left from the authorities trying to grapple the mystery that lay before them. Jaster knelt near the grove in the scarred concrete and ran his fingers along its edge. It was cold, smooth, and mysterious to all but Jaster. Lightsabers did not leave marks that could be traced back to a particular weapon, but then again it's not like the investigators would think to look for them. Instead, Jaster sat down crossed legged in the center of the alleyway, closed his eyes, and allowed the impressions of the night to fill him.  
Men, hungry men, lurk in the darkness. Metal glints in the moonlight, eyes search and wait. Light feet enter, a trap is sprung, the hunger burns. This was a story Jaster had felt too many times, and anger filled him as he began to seethe. There's a beast in every man's heart that comes alive when you put a sword or a women in his arms. But instead of anguish and sadness, he heard her laughter. Metal is dropped, men flee, no mercy, two quick deaths.  
A harsh wicked smile, flash of high heeled boots, feeling of a lithe body turning in your arm, a hint of a mocking laughter. This was not a trace he had felt before.  
He was tired of running into traces that he did not know when he was supposed to know them all. He stood up, and reached out and searched for the trace, feeling like this was all too soon again.  
Finding nothing, he knew that this hunt would be harder. This trace was far more subtle than simply darkness. Putting his hands back into his pockets, he again began to wander.  
What really bothered him was the body count. A Jedi was not a killer. No Jedi aimed to kill, for every death takes away from the Force. Only God gets to kill people in His own time.  
His thoughts turned back to Darkness and the face that hid beneath the hood. He knew that face would kill, which is why it was a face that Jaster had to stop before it took away a life very precious to him.

~  
The Professor looked up at the emblem on the screen.  
"The Jedi are surprisingly simple, and from that simplicity, we can garner a lot of conclusions. Together, we'll logically reach these conclusions, and so the simple is where we will start. I hope none of you are atheists."  
Turning back around, he addressed his slightly bewildered class.  
"I say that because the presence of the Jedi and their source of power, the Force, means that there is something non-physical that we cannot explain. Before you ask me for proof of something I cannot access, if you assume it's existence, you will find a number of gaps in your explanation of the Jedi filled."  
A hand shot into the air, but the Professor knew a philosophy minor when he saw one, and ignored it.  
"According to the Jedi, the Force is, and I know you will all find this familiar, an energy field generated by all living things. It surrounds us, penetrates us, and binds the galaxy together."  
The class laughed, and the Professor continued.  
"There are those, for whatever reason, who are blessed with permission to access this power. The Force made into living beings. They are very few, but if we look at history, we can find a number of individuals with unexplained abilities. This power manifests itself into three primary areas. Control, affect, and alter. As cool as these sound, we know very little about them, besides the most direct implications like telekinesis."  
"The best evidence of the presence of an 'Order' is only about ten years old due to the mass proliferation of communication technology; however circumstantial evidence dates it back nearly two-thousand years. We will discuss one event in particular, one you’ve already heard enough about in the news, but this time from a slightly different point of view.”  
“But first, the Force itself. Yes?"  
"Sir." A red headed girl in the second row had raised her hand. "How have people not noticed this Force before? An all pervasive energy field must be hard to miss."  
"I don’t wish to say that the Force is beyond science, but rather that science is not adequately equipped to study it. They are two different levels of existence, and it appears that the Jedi are the only link between them. Maybe someday we will begin to understand, but for the moment, however, we must be content just to watch."

~  
The deaths, Darkness, and the trace were all he could dwell on as he stared off the roof above the city's early morning lights. Jaster doubted anyone else could help him. Ashley was on the verge of depression trying to grapple with her calling, while his master was so narrow minded and dogmatic that any discussion would only lead to another argument. This was Jaster's problem to solve.  
He closed his eyes and opened himself up to the Force, praying again for wisdom and courage even though it seemed like none ever came. If there was a will, then why can't it just come out with it and tell him what to do? If it was so eager to appoint champions, surely it could do to give a little bit of direction. His master claimed he could hear it whispering, feel it's pull, and trust it's guidance, but Jaster was getting more and more certain that was just in his head.  
Sheer cloth to the touch, blow of hair out of the eyes, a fresh stamp on the back of her hand. He spun around and behind him sat a girl, blonde, thin, of average height, and with a sharp complexion. She was dressed in tight jeans and high-heeled boots, just enough to split attention from her generous and unconcealed plunging v-neck shirt.  
"Hey." She said, her feet rocking back and forth where she perched, her hands on the ledge. She looked aloof, bored, and expecting attention.  
He did not attend, and instead waited, silent, and so did she, expression unchanging. Here was the trace. She was completely confident.  
"Who are you?" He finally asked. He had absolutely no idea. He had never seen her before in his life.  
"I'm Kate." She hopped off the ledge and leaned against it instead, as if with that name alone you should know who she is.  
"Did you kill those two men?"  
"Yes, I did. They wanted something I didn't want to give them. Their violence ended with violence, they won't be hurting anyone anymore."  
"That was wrong, killing is wrong."  
"Is it? They had their minds set on violating me in the gravest ways possible, likely then to kill me afterwards. Is that not self-defense? Is that not justified, Jedi?"  
"Only God gets to kill people."  
"You're one to talk of what God can and cannot do, you're the one borrowing His power. Is not my life more valuable than the lives of two armed and evil men?"  
"All are equal in the eyes of the Force."  
She laughed, pushed herself off the wall and began to walk towards him.  
"Jedi, everything you have said you have repeated from someone else. Not an original thought in your head, you just keep vomiting back the words you were taught are true. Tell me, Watchmen, when Darkness comes for you, how will you save yourself, with no threat of death to protect you?"  
Jaster looked down at possibly the least threatening women he had ever seen, and did not know what to say. She scoffed at his shocked silence, and then flashed him the strangest most enticing glance.  
"Unlike you, I am free. I do exactly what I want to do, and Darkness has no power over me."  
She stepped one foot back into low stance, one foot back and the other forward as she put her hand behind the small of her back and withdrew a double length lightsaber hilt out of which sprung a single pale blue blade. She held it out in front of her with both hands.  
Then she sprang, her blade spinning around and above her as she brought it down towards him. He got over his shock instantly, and dodged to present side-face, pulled out his own green lightsaber, and drove hers towards the ground. With his free arm he aimed an elbow for her nose, but she was already gone, ducking down around him to free her saber and now was perched up on the ledge he had been overlooking. She looked down at him mockingly.  
"I'm in love, alright, with my crazy beautiful life! With the parties, the disasters, with my friends all pretty and plastered. Every night we're down to go out, waking up on a different couch. 'Til the next night, on the next flight, yeah I guess we're doing all right!"  
Jaster lunged at her feet. She jumped up, flipped over him, and landed spinning to slash at his back. Jaster had already turned to parry and pushed her blade towards the ground, trying to take advantage of its length to snatch it from her hands. She simply let go, letting the saber spin around his before catching it again, using the moment to playfully slap him across the face. Jaster recovered, angered, then flipped his grip into reverse and brought it horizontally across her middle, she threw herself down, bending back at the knees, and sprang back up as it passed over her.  
"Every single night we fight, to get a little high on life, to get a little something right, something real, at least we try. Time after time, try dodging all the douchebag guys, try trading all the wasted times for something real in this crazy life!"  
Jaster saw a subtle change in her grip, and prepared to move. Out of the other end of her double length hilt sprang a matching pale blue blade which she brought up to cut him side to shoulder. He whirled around her, striking several times along the way, but each one was stopped by the spinning globe of blue light that began to form around her as she twirled and twisted her lightsaber.  
He sprang away and lifted his hand, summoning the Force to blow her off the edge. As the wave hit, she lifted gracefully in the air, and landed cleanly on the ledge of the building. She smiled, as she now held two sabers, her own transparent and smooth staff and the familiar clean cut lines of his own weapon. In his concentration, she had pulled his saber from his grip and now she held it spinning and floating a few inches above her spread fingers.  
"Oh, oh, oh, We're falling in love."  
With that she fell backwards, throwing Jaster's saber in the air. Turning in midair, she fell into a headfirst dive, totally in control and gracefully falling towards the ground.  
'Oh, oh, oh, til the sun's coming up."  
Courage, then, he told himself. The Force is your ally as much as it is hers. He ran forward and swan dived off the roof following her taunting voice. Reaching out, he summoned his lightsaber falling above him back into his hand. He caught it, reactivated it, and brought it to bear just as he reunited with her midair.  
"Oh, oh, oh, just living the life!”  
They landed on the windows and began running down the side of the building, the light of their weapons reflecting off their glass floor. They pushed off towards one another and exchanged parried blows before taking each other's spot in their gravity defying race towards the ground. Again they bounced off each other, then separated, then leapt again into the air, clashing twice and switching positions, calling on the Force to slow their descent.  
"Every single night we fight, to get a little high on life, to get a little something right, something real, at least we try! Time after time try dodging all the douchebag guys, try trading all the wasted times for something real in this crazy life!"  
Jaster came upon a window cleaner's perch and with a single swipe he had a rope. One end he bound to his arm and as the ground approached he leapt off the side of the building and swung towards her with his feet out for a savage slam.  
He passed through where she was falling, but she was already gone with only the faintest sound of laughter to herald her departure. Jaster let go of the rope, landed smoothly onto the empty street, and extinguished his lightsaber. She had fled. He returned the hilt to his belt and turned to the streets, her words still echoing in his ears.

~One~  
This chapter is dedicated to the women of The Order {TO}. Ayame, Xanatara, Kabe'bec, Kaela.

It was now near morning, an hour rarely seen. They had spent all night on that couch. Sarah had listened, clasping the single red rose in her hands, and occasionally punctured Ryan’s words with questions, seeking to understand.  
He had told her everything. Every last story, every last memory, and every last secret. Now he only prayed that she understood.  
For to speak all of those things to another person was one of the strangest and hardest things he has ever done. These were things he had known his whole life, things he had struggled with and, in some cases, nearly forgotten. Now spoken out loud to someone, even to someone who was barely able to understand, they had all come flooding back to him. While the struggle continued, he had someone with whom he could share it with, and it wasn't someone who was struggling herself.  
For that last walk from her apartment, he had held the hand of a girl. Like a forgotten childhood fantasy that had finally found its way to reality, he could not let go of the memory of her eyes as they lit up with his successes, deepened with his sorrows, and saddened with his losses. There was something different about her, something that for the first time in a long while made him feel a little lighter and a little bit happier.  
He stared at the door she had closed behind him and remembered the parting promise he had whispered into her ear. The promise had just come to his mind and then out through his lips. They had seemed so pure and so perfect, even though he hadn't been sure what they would mean. It was a promise that he swore he would never forget, and he hoped that she would trust him and not forget either.  
As the night faded, finally accepting the fact that it's tomorrow, he turned and walked away from the door. He did not know how to deal with the feelings. Jedi weren't supposed to last long enough to get the feelings. Death called far too soon. What was once thought to be a blessing in disguise, Ryan began to feel that perhaps the Jedi had been missing something important all along.  
Thoughts of a mysterious suited man were second to her. Everything was second to her. He wanted nothing more than to run away and stay with her on her couch forever.  
Ryan had sworn an oath to serve the Force, another promise he had never forgotten and never would. But, right now at this very moment, the most important thing to him was that he liked a girl.  
Immediately upon this revelation, Ryan's phone vibrated. He pulled out a small disposable flip phone and opened it to a text with a time. Snapping it shut again, Ryan turned towards downtown to find out what his Watchmen needed from him.  
But, he couldn't help but stop and again look back at the door from which he had come. He played it back in his mind again, the last moment before he saw her vanish and he refused to let go. She was someone who might understand his life and his purpose, someone who he wasn't afraid to talk to and who wasn't afraid of him, and someone who did not share his burden.  
In the back of his mind however, he feared he had welcomed something else into his life. She knew that too, for he had told her. Ryan only hoped she understood enough to forgive him.

~  
"Where did you learn to play like that?" She asked, bringing her knees back to the floor off the couch.  
"I've opened myself to any question, and that's the one you pick?" He looked at her quizzically, for in his imagination this would have never started here. It should have started on something much better, bigger, and more dramatic.  
"Well, you're like, ridiculously good, but it doesn't define who you are. It's kind of unnatural, are you using the Force to play guitar? I think that's cheating."  
He hadn't really ever thought about it that way.  
"I learned, you take something secular and you apply the Force to it. Through that art, you learn more about the world, about the Force, and about yourself. You discover who you are and your connection to the Force."  
"Why guitar? I mean, that's pretty awesome, but why did you pick that?"  
"I didn't," he said, blankly, "it was chosen for me. It was decided for me that playing the guitar would be my art for my training. That though this art form, I might learn more about myself and the Force."  
"I know, I know, you already said that. What I'm asking is why the guitar? Why not something else?"  
"I...I don't know. It wasn't up to me, that was for others to pick. I guess I don't know the reasons. All my life, there has been a guitar in my room. There was nothing else, I had no choice. It becomes a part of you, forced by the fact of no other option."  
"So you're telling me that you grew up playing the guitar using the Force simply because you were given no other choice? Where are the people who picked?"  
"Dead."

~  
"Why is it always the rooftop?" Ryan asked as he walked up next to him.  
"I like it up here," Jaster said quietly as he continued to stare off the ledge. He wanted to be able to see everything. It was the same roof that a few hours earlier had hosted Kate as well. Jaster had gone over every inch looking and feeling for any clues that might tell him who she was, where she had come from, or why she had come to him. None had appeared, and his head still swam with her words.  
"How's your life?"  
Jaster smiled at their joke, pausing before answering. "I met someone very strange last night."  
"Me too."  
Jaster sensed a surge of joy from Ryan, but it was quickly shut down. He looked over to see him turn away, barely concealing a smile.  
"Who?" Jaster asked suspiciously.  
"A man in a suit." Ryan replied hastily as he turned back around. "He knew who I was, my name, how old I am, and some other stuff too. And there were others, with guns. Lots of guns. Someone is coming for us."  
"Coming for you, you mean." Jaster snapped, anger getting into his voice. "Your vain attempt to try to fit into the world is just making you more noticeable. This was bound to happen and this is all your fault."  
"Who will light a lamp and hide it under a bowl?" Ryan said, unperturbed by Jaster's accusation.  
"How clever, am I supposed to just accept that? We're not a part of the world, we're not a part of their life, we have to hide. They will hate us for who we are."  
"You of little faith, how do you know that? What if they do want to know us? What if we can do so much more if we down there with them? We can't silently protect forever."  
Jaster felt his face flush. All he can see is what he wants, and nothing else.  
"Is this what your university experiment is trying to prove? You're wrong, and you are wasting your very precious time."  
"There are certainly other reasons why this suited man could know so much, and it's probably not because I spent a week in a university. Besides, there is much more value there than there is wondering the streets at night and doing God knows what during the day."  
"That's what we're supposed to do! Save people, purge evil, protect the innocent-"  
"No." Ryan said, cutting him off and getting in his face. "It's to follow the will of the Force wherever it may lead us, even to our own deaths."  
"Oh, is that right? You're one to talk."  
"Just because I'm not dead yet doesn't mean I won't be soon. The time of my sacrifice is coming."  
"Stop it," Jaster said, giving up and starting to walk away. "We have sacrificed enough already, look at what it has done to you, to me, have you even spoken to Ashley recently? A life of sacrifice is destroying us faster than our own sin!"  
"At least that makes an easier job for you, Watchmen."  
Jaster turned back at Ryan. Both stayed silent at the others words, Jaster's green eyes raging eyes staring up into Ryan's cold blue ones. It was like there wasn't a care in them, like he did not give a single thought towards Jaster's point of view. Jaster ran through a breathing exercise to calm himself down, and spoke deliberately and carefully.  
"My duty may be to protect us from ourselves but you are not making it any easier. Last night, I met another Force-user, a girl. We fought and she was strong. How do you think that she found me? Which of us isn't hiding?"  
"What was her name?"  
"She said her name was Kate, and that's all I have. She found me after I tried to follow her trace. Two men attacked her in an alleyway. She killed them."  
Ryan cocked his head to the side, understanding why Jaster had referred to her as a Force-user, and not a Jedi.  
"How old was she?"  
"I don't know, eighteen maybe, I know it doesn't make any sense. And, she said..."  
Jaster, suddenly lost in thought, looked away with his mouth slightly open. Maybe Kate was right, maybe there was more to being a Jedi than this. Jaster wasn’t getting anywhere with Ryan, and he was certainly not free. He could barely even imagine what that meant.  
Ryan waited patiently for a moment.  
"Well?"  
Jaster snapped back up, returned to his usual hard stare, and quickly muttered something about nothing.  
Ryan turned away and looked out over the ledge again, thinking. Jaster returned to join him. They stood in silence as the sun began to creep further into the morning sky. He leaned forward, and rested his elbows on the ledge.  
"Keep investigating this Kate and if you find her, call Ashley. This one is for her, I don't want you fighting a girl."  
"You don't think that I can handle it?"  
"You're fourteen years old. Of course, I don't think you can handle it. Besides, this is what we have her for."  
Jaster seethed more, but stayed silent. He knew Ryan was probably right, but that didn't make him any less angry. The silence stayed until Ryan broke it again.  
"I'm going to see the President tonight."  
"I assume he's finally going to ask you for help. What will you say? And why not today?"  
"It depends on what he asks, and not today. Today is Friday, today I have to go to school."  
‘Yes, ‘master’.”  
With that, Ryan flipped over the ledge and bounded off to the next building. Grabbing the edge, he dropped down the side and then blended into a morning crowd too tired to notice the new arrival.  
Jaster had not forgotten the shutdown surge of joy that Ryan had felt and barely managed to conceal. But it gave him an excuse to not tell him about Darkness. He knew that he should, but he could not bring himself to confront his friend, as hidden and broken the friendship might be. Eventually, he would have to do it. Eventually he would have to ask Ryan some very hard questions. That's sometimes what the Watchmen has to do to protect the Jedi from the most dangerous thing of all.  
Themselves.

~  
Another hand raised up, this time from a tall fabulously dressed blonde boy on the side. The professor looked at him, and nodded.  
"Professor, are you implying that the Force is conscious?"  
"Conscious? I don't know if it's a decision-making consciousness like you or I, but the Jedi claim that it has a will. More specifically, it has a will to do good. However, when asked I suspect the Jedi will say doing good is following the will of the Force. No matter, it is from the following of this will that the Jedi get their mandate."  
The professor got up from his desk and strode to the window, putting his hands in his pockets and looking out. "What is that mandate? Well, it's to make the world a better place and keep others from disrupting that peace. Are they doing a good job, I don't know. But then I imagine what the world might be like if our condition was much worse. Yes?"  
The fabulous blonde boy's hand was up again.  
"An unseen force, a class of special magic warriors forging a link between the physical and the non-physical, a greater will determining what is good and what is evil, this is absurd."  
The professor turned back around and walked to the questioner's desk and sat on it, looking down at him.  
"No, it's not. But it sounds just like the Hollywood fantasy though, doesn't it? Well, the idea for that fantasy comes from somewhere, it's founded in something. Could it be here? If you look at the Jedi with an inquisitive eye instead of your pessimistic one, I think you'll find that they make a whole lot of sense and fit right into our worldview. And, as we are going to discuss, they have a great deal more to worry about than their own improbability."

~  
"Alright, what's next?"  
All his advisors shook their heads, spoke their thanks, and filed out of the room. The meeting had gone as expected. Trouble was always the same, at home and abroad. That, in itself, was often a blessing.  
The President stood up from his Oval Office desk and strode to the giant bulletproof windows that looked out over the Rose Garden. He put his hands behind his back, and stared out the window. Today, the news was the Jedi and that was not good news. It would be forever hard to convince the President that the Jedi had any ill will, however the President was not the only person in the meeting and the presented arguments had been compelling, particularly the ones from his generals. Nor had the points raised never dwelled on his mind before.  
"How are you, Mr. President?"  
A young voice suddenly appearing in his silent office was no longer a surprise to him, although he did not dare scare his Secret Service by telling them exactly how often it happened. The President turned around to find the expected and familiar tall blonde boy standing at attention in worn jeans and an untucked collared button up with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. A slightly curved metal hilt hung from his belt hung and glinted in the fluorescent light. Whenever they met, the President always found his eyes returning to its haunting, mysterious beauty.  
"Someday, you're going to have to tell me how you do that."  
"Yes, Mr. President." Always so polite, the President smiled. Then again, everyone was polite to him.  
"I'm doing well, Master Jedi, and thank you for coming this evening. I'm glad you somehow knew you were needed."  
"What can I do for you, Mr. President?"  
The President returned to his desk and motioned to the empty chair next to it. Ryan sat down, back straight, his hands folded in his lap.  
"I had a strange meeting today. A man came in and told me that the Jedi are dangerous, unable to police themselves, and a threat to the security of the nation. Needless to say, most of my staff was pretty shocked to hear that there really are Jedi, much less to already be hearing someone tell them they are a problem."  
"And you listened?"  
"Did I listen? Yes, I listened to his words. But I hope you remember how much I trust you, thus you can believe me when I say that I was very skeptical of his arguments."  
"Yes, sir. The Order is self policing, there is no-"  
Ryan stopped, cocked his head to the side, and furrowed his brow.  
"Sir, was it this man?"  
Suddenly, into the President's mind's eye sprang the image of a man at a table in a dimly lit room, dressed in a suit, reading from a folder. It left as quickly as it came. He paused a moment in surprise from the Jedi's sudden projection into his mind.  
"Was it him, sir?" Ryan patiently repeated.  
"Yes," He said, recovering. "He is with the special forces. The military has taken particularly special interest in you. His name is-"  
"Please don't tell me his name. He...arrested me, for lack of a better word, last night and questioned me in the room you saw. He said he wanted to bring the Jedi under closer control and regulation and we had to either get with the program or get out."  
"Which is exactly what you want."  
Ryan leaned forward. "No sir, I want the Jedi to be understood, not feared. Accepted, but not controlled. We're a force that can be counted on for the good of the world. But I believe that in order to do that, we need to stop hiding and become a part of the world."  
"Yes, as you have explained to me several times before, Master Jedi. While your intervention at Rosslyn demonstrated that very clearly for me, not everyone has had the pleasure of your charming company. While myself and the Secret Service may agree with you, the vast majority will, and in this building now does, see you as a very dangerous threat."  
"Can't you just tell them that the military is wrong?"  
"I could, but like you, I must often choose my battles."  
The President stood, as did Ryan, and strode towards the door.  
"You saved my life, Master Jedi, and I have absolute faith in you. So, I am sorry to do this. You must address the military yourself. It will not be easy, for as you know no one trusts you, believes you exist, or is inclined to protect you."  
"I can handle the suited man and whatever he’s lying about today."  
The President stopped at the door. "I'm sure you can, Master Jedi, but this is bigger than you and him. You can't have it both ways, you can't have your legitimacy and your mystery, and trying to balance the two is going to bring you into a precarious position and you will have to make a very hard choice."  
The president opened the door and walked out into the maelstrom of the West Wing of the White House . Two Secret Service agents immediately began to follow him, ignoring the eighteen year old he was walking with as if they didn't even see him there. Sounds of fast walking and quick exchanges flooded into his ears, the constant high emotion of the White House spun through the air like a thousand traces rolled into one raging storm.  
"Where are we going, sir?"  
"The situation room, where Justice, FBI, CIA, NSA, the Joint Chiefs, and Defense waits with your suited man. He promised to demonstrate for us exactly how dangerous the Jedi are. I trust, Master Ryan, that you will make the right choice."

~  
"So, what were the other Jedi given? Are you an order of guitar heroes too?"  
He laughed and shook his head, and came around the coffee table to sit down at the far end of the couch.  
"No, it's different for everyone, and what it is always affects who they become. My guitar has taught me a specific way to view the world, through music, and it has given me a uniquely close connection to the power of the Force. I feel it like music, letting it flow through me like a song you've heard a thousand times before, every beat familiar."  
He looked down a bit. "Because of that I am probably the singular most powerful being you will ever meet, save after death."  
"I can't believe you just said that with a straight face. What else do Jedi do? Is there one who does the Rubix Cube really well? Maybe one who is wicked good at knitting?"  
"Mock it if you wish, but the art is chosen for you and it becomes who you are. I know a girl who woke up one day with ballet shoes at the foot of her bed. She danced and danced, but the world will never see her perfect grace. All they will see is the elegance of her swordsmanship. She is not violent, but her art has made her very good at violence. Her very nature is divided by what she is called to do. Instead of dancing the night away, she is but death itself."

~  
The lieutenant opened the door for them as they approached. Instantly the chattering stopped as all rose to their feet. The President motioned them to sit down and then gestured his companion to the seat on his left. Around the table were twenty or so men and women, all of different uniforms, all looking at the President save the familiar visage of the suited man standing near the projection screen at the foot of the table. His eyes were on Ryan, completely unsurprised by his presence.  
"Mr. President, thank you for coming tonight, I'm glad to see Master Ryan could join us as well."  
All eyes were suddenly on him as they all realized who he was. The Joint Chief of Staff, an army general, spoke up to object.  
"Sir, we don't know what this...young man is capable of."  
Ryan looked at the President, who simply smiled at his general.  
"Master Ryan has my absolute trust and faith; he is here to help us shed some light on this issue. It's very close to his heart, as you can imagine."  
"I, too, welcome his presence," The suited man spoke up, "We have met previously, and I have found his company to be truly exceptional.”  
He turned towards his projection screen which turned from a map of the world into the image of a dance studio, the lights were off and the building seemed at rest for the night. Ryan went cold as armored trucks pulled up to it and the familiar armored officers, who he now knew were special forces, piled out of the backs. From the driver’s seat of the lead truck, the familiar build of the Sergeant stepped out, directing men to surround the building. The suited man turned back to addressed the President.  
"We have located a Jedi living in this abandoned building. She is young, alone, wild, and scared. This is what the Order does to children and, I'm sorry, but very few come out as well-mannered as Master Ryan. Our forces will infiltrate the building and attempt to subdue and bring her in so that we can help her.”  
“We have taken the liberty of setting up video cameras all around the building, which we can view now." The general offered.  
The screen changed to a multitude of camera angles, all looking in on the dance studio. Bars along the walls, mirrors on one side, and completely empty save for the teenaged Asian girl dressed in a short loose red dress and black dance tights sitting on her knees with her hands resting on her lap. Her head was bowed, her eyes were closed, the room was still.  
Ryan burst out laughing. The whole room turned to look at him. The suited man was still smiling.  
"Is something funny, Master Jedi?"  
Ryan broke into a wide smile. "Her? She is your wild and scared child? You have no idea who this is, do you?"  
"We'll find out when we bring her in."  
"You're going to need more men."  
The video feed showed the soldiers break down the door and charge in, rifles drawn. Her eyes shot open but she did not move.  
"Why, Master Jedi? Are you afraid to see what your Force has turned her into?"  
"Oh, I know exactly what we have turned her into."  
The doors to the studio burst open and they charged in yelling and pointing rifles at the girl, who slowly rose to her feet. A soldier came forward, handcuffs out, and motioned for her hands.  
"One." Ryan whispered.  
Her hand shot forward and snatched the handcuffs, slapping them around the wrists of the soldier before leaping up into the air to deliver a kick, knocking him straight down to the floor. The screen lit up as shots fired from every soldier still streaming into the room.  
"Singular sensation, every little step she takes."  
An orange lightsaber blade snapped out of an ornate gold and red brushed hilt and twirled around her, stopping every shot with a soft pop. With her free hand, she gestured to an approaching shooter, telekinetically pulled him in, pommel struck his helmet, slashed his rifle, and deftly pulled a smoke grenade off his chest bandolier. She clicked off the detonator, dropped it, and rolled away.  
"One."  
As smoke filled the room, shots slowed as their target was lost. One soldier yelled as he was suddenly thrown backwards into the wall mirrors, shattering them. In a heartbeat, she was among them. A hand centered on a chest threw its owner across the room while another got an elbow bringing him down to the floor in a heap.  
"Thrilling combination, every move that she makes."  
She rapidly circled the room, the orange glow barely keeping up, slashing down rifles and disabling armored officers. Another received a fist to his head, then a knee to the chest as he toppled over.  
"She's a special girl, one smile and suddenly nobody else will do."  
From the other side of the room, a shot came. One hand guided her orange blade into line while the other hand came up and flexed, pushing the shooter back down onto the floor from whence he came. Leaping across the room, she brought her pommel down onto another's helmet then stopped a charging solider with a thrust kick to the chest, causing him to slide along the smooth dance floor.  
"You know you'll never be lonely with you-know-who."  
More shots rang out as the remaining soldiers recovered and brought their arms to bear. She spun towards them, one foot in front of the other and always moving out of place of each bullet. Hesitating with disbelief as none of their shots found their marks, two more dropped. One to a swift kick to the face, and another due to a metal hilt smashing a throat.  
"One moment in her presence and you can forget the rest!"  
Finally the sprinklers went off, the fire system catching up with the smoke filling the room. The water served only to obscure her further, as she continued to move from target to target, disabling each one in turn and bringing them to the floor.  
"For the girl is second best to none,"  
Her shoes barely touched the ground as she pirouetted to her final foe, she leapt up aiming one kick to smash his helmet, and then a second to bring him to the floor, unconscious.  
"Ooh! Sigh! Give her your attention!" Ryan snapped at the Joint Chief of Staff, who had momentarily turned to look at him. "Do I really have to mention she's the one?"  
The studio was quiet now, save the groans of the armored soldiers scrambling to recover and find their quarry still hidden among the smoke and rain. Ryan sensed a shift from the suited man, some movement unseen by the others in the room. One of the remaining soldiers clasped the side of his helmet and listened to his radio before motioning the retreat. Retrieving their unconscious and wounded comrades, they withdrew from the room with not a single body left behind. Just how it should be, Ryan thought.  
As the smoke began to fade though, she was still not alone. She stood in a martial artist's stance with her blade lit and held behind her ear with her other hand forward raising two fingers. Across from her stood a slim boy with long black hair raking devilishly across his barely visible eyes, Ryan rose from his seat, squinted his eyes, and slowly began to walk towards the image on the screen.  
As the black haired boy causally rolled up the sleeves of his raised hoodie, and withdrew a black and silver hilt and held it in reverse grip behind his back. His other hand came up to match hers, beckoning a challenge as a dark purple blade sprang from his weapon.  
Ryan continued his walk towards the screen, staring at the pair as they battled. This was what Jaster had told him about, but this boy was not the girl he had described, it was someone else.  
Ryan was not worried about Ashley, it would take armies to stop her. More pressing was this appearance meant that they were with the suited man. Whether they were working for him or vice versa remained to be seen.  
It also meant Jaster might have been right. Ryan had lead someone, or something, straight to them. Only one person knew the answer to that question.  
Ryan stopped just shy of the screen, turned around, ignited his lightsaber and pointed it at the suited man.  
"One, Two,"  
"Shoulder up,"  
"Singular Sensation!"  
"Stay pulled up."  
"Point and point,"  
"Flick.”  
“Step, kick."  
"Hat to the head."  
"Three, Four,"  
"Leap at the hip,"  
"Follow through."  
"Elbow right.  
“Down point."  
"Step rSush.  
“Three four,"  
"Suddenly nobody..."  
"Step.”  
“Flick,"  
"Step.”  
“Up"  
"Step, and step,"  
"Lunge!"  
"Slow!"  
"Three, four, five, six."  
"Hat."  
"Kick."  
"Step, rush, palm up,"  
"Five, six, back, back."

 

Spinning to attack, Ashley drew from her side a second hilt identical to her first, and from it sprang another orange blade. Swinging them in turn one after another, each was met with the raised purple blade as her opponent backpedaled. She let out a spinning kick to end the cycle, but was stopped short by an upwards flick threatening to cleave her from stomach to neck.  
She sprang backwards as the blade passed in front of her face and locked down his blade with her offhand, while swinging her mainhand at his neck. He dove down and as she landed and she lunged, bringing both blades into the floor after the rapidly rolling away prone form.  
When she missed, he used the moment to spring up backwards, back to the opposite of how they had started.

Several joint chiefs and secretaries sprang out of the way as he slowly marched, his weapon drawn and pointed dramatically towards the suited man. One aide ran for the door, but with his free hand Ryan stretched out and summoned the Force to bind the handles together. This man was trying to kill those whom he loved under the pretense of lies and deceit. As he marched towards the suited man, he continued to whisper.

"One. Singular sensation, every little step she takes. One. Thrilling combination, every move that she makes. She's a special girl, one smile and suddenly nobody else will do. You know you'll never be lonely with you-know-who..."  
"One moment in her presence, and you can forget the rest! For the girl is second best to none. 'Ooh! Sigh! Give her your attention!', do I really have to mention, she's the one?"  
Ashley took two steps forward before flinging herself into the air with her blades twirling around her. To defend himself, he spun under and behind her to slash at her back. But, when he got there, she waiting for him. She had let go of her weapons leaving them suspended in their no longer useful mid-air positions and pummeled his chest with a series of lightning fast punches before sending him away with a force enhanced palm strike.

 

"One."  
He struck the wall feet first, running up and around before landing back on the floor. Crouched down with his reversed weapon held behind him, blade pointed towards the ceiling, he brought up his second hand and motioned. The situation room's view of the battle turned to static, then off, bringing the room to darkness save the silver light of Ryan's lightsaber.  
"One."  
As the screens behind him went black, he stopped walking, his silver blade inches from the still and silent suited man. He stared at a face that knew exactly what it was doing. No one man stayed so solid with the ancient mythical weapon pointed at their face. Yet, there he was, daring its judgment and uncaring of the results.  
"One."  
And the President was right. He had to make a choice, and the right choice. This was no place for violence, and any outburst would just give his opposition excuse. He turned off his weapon, motioned to the aide still struggling with the door to return to his seat, and did likewise himself. He sat opposite the suited man, matched his posture, and stared right back.  
"One.”

 

~Up a Steep and Very Narrow Stairway~

"Amazing, Guardian...exactly the strength that I would expect…"  
Ashley held her position, one blade in front to block and the other held behind her ready to strike. Who was he and why had her sanctuary been violated? This place was finally starting to feel like somewhere where she could get away.  
The smoke had finally begun to dissipate and the sprinklers turned off, giving her a clear view of the one who was in front of her. He was still crouched, his long black bangs hanging low over a pale white forehead. He was slim, a build encouraged by his clear preference for black. Thin fractal patterned scars were barely visible along the back of his hands and up his forearms before disappearing under his scrunched up black hoodie sleeves.  
Ashley tried to put on her best big-girl Jedi voice, hoping to sound as serene and sage-like as possible.  
"Who are you?" She asked quietly.  
His voice returned slowly, slightly dragging on some words as if just to give them some mysterious intonation.  
"My name is Alex..."  
"Anything else?"  
Alex chuckled softly and extinguished his lightsaber, returning it to his sleeve as he drew them back down from past his elbows. He rose from his crouch, drew a hand up to pull his hair out of his eyes, and stepped forward.  
"Why ask? You already feel it."  
She was about to dismiss him as nothing more than theatrics, but then she did feel it. It was nothing like a trace. Instead it was as if in place of the light from a lamp, shadows spread from him instead. It covered everything it touched, turning and morphing it into an extension of its reach. At the center of it all a burning heart of lightning slowly crackled and consumed. Slow tendrils whipped out from the heart, lashed into the shadows, and drew in more to engulf. The current of the Force had been bent into a new form at the will of its master. Ashley felt it, and hated it.  
"What have you done?" Ashley whispered, her eyes wide.  
"Freedom. Enlightenment... so unfettered that I can even defeat you. The Force has no authority over me."  
Ashley tried to shy away but the feeling was still there. It was the way that he was twisting and warping the Force, a dammed river welling up to a lake inside him slowly growing stagnant and about to burst at the brim.  
"Behold what the Force truly is,” Alex stepped forward, grinning, his arms held open as he spread his glorious good news. ”A revelation to the strong and to the enlightened, coercing growth through the chaos it ensures."  
"I don't think those words mean what you think they mean." Ashley said, trying to distract herself from the feeling of the welling corruption. An unfamiliar sensation began to well up inside her, and she began to shake.  
Alex grinned at her fear and began stepping forward to close the distance between them.  
"The Jedi...so willing to give, give, and give some more to create someone like you...but something's broken isn't it? You don't feel like the one, Guardian... and you won't...no, you can't."  
Ashley stepped back keeping pace with his advance, her lightsabers still at the ready. "I serve at the pleasure of the will of the Force, until we succeed or it calls me home."  
"Of course, of course, the will of the Force. What does it tell you about me? You...even in your strength will always be nothing more than a fraction of your potential."  
Ashley unconsciously lowered her guard, no one had ever ascribed any weakness to her before. She was the one, the thrilling combination, the Jedi Guardian. Yet this man, whom she had so effortlessly held off, had even spared, had the gall to declare her anything less than perfection.  
“When will you realize...there is no will, there is only power. Power for the taking…”  
"You know nothing.” Ashley snapped at him. “You grab onto power thinking you deserve it all. There is responsibility, cost, there is sacrifice. That is why there are Jedi. You do not know what you do."  
Alex chuckled softly again then stared straight into her eyes, stopping his slow advance.  
"I understand exactly what I do..."  
His gaze began to lazily drift away before snapping back. His face had changed, his eyes wide, his smile broad alit with crazed self-love.  
"In an instant lightning flashes and the burst might leave me blind. When the bolt of lightning crashed, and it burns right through my mind. It's like someone drained my brain out, set my frozen mind in awe. It let the lethargy and pain out while I stood and watched in awe!"  
He raised his hands towards her with his fingers curling up like claws. Blue lightning began to coalesce between his hands and writhe to and fro around him. Ashley steeled herself, raises both orange lightsabers into a closer defensive position, and quickened her retreating steps.  
For the first time, she admitted she was afraid. Her dance was swords, a ballet of two artists each playing their part. This, this was something else. This was something she did not understand.  
"I am riding on the brightest buzz...I am worlds away from who I was...they told me it would change me, but they don't know how it does!"  
He snarled in hate and the Force lighting surged from his fingertips. She cried out and summoned the Force into her weapons, channeling the incoming energy down the blades and then grounding it into the floor. But the lightning did not stop, and soon she could feel the heat in her hands as her control began to wane.  
"I have lived a life of black and grey, but this is crystal clear, wish I were here...I imagine it's remarkable, exuberant, austere. Wish I were here, wish I were here!"

~  
Jaster's hands caressed the small black case. Safe, no one out there can hurt me right now. There’s still one place left where there is no death. He carefully marked his canvas, a stretch of concrete wall he had already painted a thousand times over, and set his palette of small globs of paint slowly suspended in the air awaiting the quick jab of his thin brush.  
Once he was ready, he delicately opened the case and withdrew a small glass needle and a bottle of clear liquid. Filling the needle, he carefully injected it between his fingers to hide any suspicious marks. Maybe a little more this time. He opened up to the Force and urged his blood to flow faster, speeding up his already rapidly beating heart. Soon, his eyes rolled back, and the visions began, flying to take him to a better place.  
"It's euphoria, it's anger, it's the winter wind, it's fire. It kills my deepest hunger as it fills me with desire."  
The paintbrush swept across the concrete, color flowing and blending to match the visions behind his eyes. When his arm could not keep up with his mind, the paint flew from his palette as if a will of its own, spreading perfectly through the cracks and crevasees yet still building only a small fraction of what he could see.  
"I'm the light and heat of every sun, I'm a bullet from a magic gun. I'm trying to enjoy it, but I'm missing all the fun!"

~

“Am I feeling what I think I'm feeling, the hope beneath the fear? Wish I were here.”  
“Is this someone else's intention, do I just disappear? Wish I were here, wish I were here.”  
“Plug me in, and turn me on, flip the switch, I'm good as gone. It slits my skin, and trips my brain, I feel the burn, but I don't feel the pain!”  
“Am I feeling what I think I'm feeling, the hope beneath the fear? Wish I were here.”  
“Is this someone else's intention, do I just disappear? Wish I were here, wish I were here.”  
“Plug me in, and turn me on, flip the switch, I'm good as gone. It slits my skin, and trips my brain, I feel the burn, but I don't feel the pain!”

~  
"Is my brain reborn or is it wrecked, in freedom or in fear? Wish I were here!"  
Alex began to slowly rise off the ground, his hands stretching out from his sides. The lightning began to fill the room and surround Ashley as he further twisted the flow of the Force into his service. Soon, it began to envelop around her weapons and threaten to lash against her skin. Shunting away from the lightning, she withdrew her weapons and attempted to fall further into the Force and summon a shield to protect her, only to see the lighting skid across the surface quick to find its way inside.  
Gritting her teeth, she turned her back to a window, and held her breath. She began to absorb and hold in as much of the incoming Force energy as she could.  
"Have I blown my mind forever? Is cloudy my new clear? Wish I were here..."  
Then she breathed, and let it go. Released from its former master, the Force began to flow again and Ashley let it carry her away with it. She rocketed up and gracefully spun out of a window and away from the raging storm, taking her fear with her.  
"Wish I were-"

~  
The pang of a breaking string, a lone silhouette, the feeling of flying through the air between bounds.  
A trace. That trace. He instantly slammed the small black case shut and paint dropped to the ground as he spun around. Ryan's silhouette appeared in the archway to his sanctuary and stepped forward into the light. Jaster stood still, concealing the small black case and the redness of his hand behind his back next to his half completed work.  
Ryan glanced at the well-worn canvas, nodded with appreciation, and quietly spoke.  
"Ashley found another Force-user and the suited man is behind this. Someone or something is coming after us and it's not just for me. I don't know why, but...what's wrong?"  
"Nothing." Jaster said quickly, pleased that his voice came out as steady as the last of the visions fled him.  
"Alright, keep safe, and don't do anything stupid."  
"Yes, Master."  
Surprise took Ryan's face as the comment went without a fight. He turned around and left the way he came. As he vanished, Jaster sighed relief, and turned to his half completed painting. With the visions gone he could not complete it, it would never be perfect because of Ryan's interruption.  
In rage, he throttled the Force and ripped the paint straight off the concrete, flinging it all away where it splattered all over every painting in the room, years of love’s labor lost. As he realized what had just happened, his face fell. He turned towards the direction his friend had left.  
"Can I hide my stupid hunger, fake some confidence and cheer, 'Wish I were here'? I wish I were here..."

~  
"Death itself? Not like, seriously right? I've heard a lot weird stuff from you tonight, so I wouldn't be all that surprised."  
"Oh no," He said quickly, a bit embarrassed by his cheesy turn of phrase. "She's just really, really good at...everything. Combat training combined with incredible dance talent? It makes sense that they go together."  
"So she kicks your ass?" She asked.  
"Absolutely, it's embarrassing. She's incredible to behold."  
"I can't imagine someone like that."  
"It's always special. I have another friend who paints. I don't know what he sees when he paints, but it's... I'm sorry, I don't - I'm not sure exactly how to put it into words."  
"Try." She smiled, putting her hand on his knee.  
He struggled with his voice before the right word finally came to him.  
"The visions. He can see them so clearly, they show him things. I mean, we'll get them eventually, but for him it's different."  
"Ryan, what are you talking about? What visions?"  
"Very intense ones, ones pulled straight from your mind, from parts you thought secreted away, from parts so deep you may not even know they are there. Lucid, waking dreams, fueled by the Force. You see, the closer you are to the Force, the most intense they become. I guess you could call them a side effect, a sign that you are getting close to..."  
He paused, thinking again.  
"Close to what? What do you mean we'll get them eventually?"  
"We'll just say that they're not good."

~  
The situation room was silent; Ryan was seething but remained still and staring straight at his opposite. Ryan could sense his satisfaction; he was practically glowing in his victory.  
The point had never been to capture or kill Ashley; it had been to show everyone Ryan's reaction.  
The generals were all staring at him; he had nearly brought violence to a room of men who had made violence their life.  
"I see your point," A quiet strong voice said, and all heads returned to their President.  
"The Jedi are dangerous and must be controlled, as evidenced by the actions of this young lady and," The suited man's eyes never left Ryan as he spoke, "the apparent reaction of Master Ryan." He put emphasis on the word master, drawing attention to the position he was supposed to be upholding.  
"And these other warriors?" The President asked.  
"The Jedi do not have a monopoly on the Force. They simply need to join the fold." The suited man simply stated.  
The President turned to Ryan. "Do you understand? Can you control the Jedi, or shall it be done for you?"  
"The will of the Force controls us, sir."  
The room filled rapidly with talk, but it was the voice of the Joint Chief of Staff that rose above the rest. "Mr. President, we cannot trust the Jedi to control themselves if all they answer to is themselves. I, and I think I share this with the Department of Defense, Justice, and everyone else in the room when I say that I think this 'Force" business is crock of shit. We need to have the Jedi under our control, not some ‘will’ that we can’t see."  
Before the President could respond, Ryan turned to the Joint Chief.  
"General..." Ryan waited for a moment for the four star general's name to float to the forefront of his mind. "...Clark. Do you believe in God?"  
"I sure do, God fearing man all my life. He’s kept me and my men alive every time."  
"As do I, and just like yours, my belief is not centered on the evidence of things not seen, but instead on experience. We share this, our faith relies on what we have experienced yet have trouble sharing with others."  
The general looked at him hard, then turned to the President. "Sir, hand the Jedi over to the military. We’ll see if they truly are a force for good."  
The President looked at the Joint Chief, back at the suited man, and then returned to Ryan.  
"I will consider all the things I have heard tonight, General Clark. As for you, Master Jedi, I appreciate you taking the time to come this evening."  
"Thank you, Mr. President."  
Ryan rose and proceeded through the held open door and walked down the long basement hallway to the spiral staircase at the end, disappearing as quietly as he had arrived.

~  
On the projector screen was a very grainy photo of a silhouette floating about twenty feet in the air, clearly taken on a cell phone camera. What made it so grainy, besides the quality of the camera, was the bright light emanating from the silhouette casting all of its features in shadow. The Professor cycled through a few more slides more or less the same picture from different angles, each one appeared to be taken from the same crowd and each one equally unbetraying of its subject.  
"These photos were taken at Rosslyn a year ago on what could have been one of our nation’s darkest hours. They were briefly covered in the media, as I assume some of you will remember, but no one had any idea what it was of, save a few 'fringe' analysts and their apparently crazy ideas. However, old stuffy academics like myself are willing to side with the fringe and hazard a guess that this is a Jedi Knight. I do not know whether or not he or she was present on purpose, but his timely arrival, as you well know, saved the President's life."  
He switched to the close up of the first picture. "No photo enhancement of any kind can be done to help us, for unfortunately we are not CSI, thanks to the poor angles, distance, quality of the camera, and the bright light. However, what I want you to notice here is that this light appears to emanate from his hands."  
He switched to another, completely different image.  
"I'm willing to bet that Hollywood got this one right. What is this?"  
The class was silent for a moment, then a hand slowly raised in the air from a Palestinian man with an American accent.  
"Yes."  
"Sir, is that a lightsaber? The physics of that, it's impossible-"  
"We're talking about the Force here. While science can tell us how something happens, it cannot tell us why. In this area, we have to be willing to bend what we consider to be rules, lest we get stuck just like those who have studied this before us."

~  
The two of them were looking exhausted when he entered, slouched in their chairs in an empty classroom as if they just been arguing intensely.  
"Dude," Kyle said, "Where have you been? We started auditions like an hour ago and it has officially sucked balls. We desperately need a lady singer for Tuesday night."  
He threw his head back and groaned. Next to him, Ben the Drummer looked over, then up at Ryan.  
"This has been kind of hard without you, bro, are you sure you want to do this?"  
"Absolutely," Ryan said quickly. He had never been part of a band before and when he had accepted, he had no idea if he could even do it. He wanted to, but the idea of regular band practice was a lot scarier to him than going to meet with the President and threatening his staff right in front of him.  
He sat down next to them and looked down at their sheet of auditionees. It was just a whole lot of crossed out names. He looked up to say something, but was politely interrupted by the sound of the door opening and the entrance of a familiar short blacked haired girl. He recognized her from the club as Kyle's new friend, Arielle. As she walked in, Ryan could practically hear Ben's jaw hit the floor and certainly heard a squeak of excitement from Kyle.  
Arielle stopped in front of them. "Alright, I'll do it, if not just to get you to stop asking me. Do I still have to audition?"  
Kyle and Ben were about to say no, but Ryan wanted to experience whatever made them so excited for himself.  
"Please."  
Arielle looked at him and smiled, bowed her head a little and said, "I will be singing 'At the Ballet' from A Chorus Line." She closed her eyes, centered herself, and opened them a different person. As she began to sing, Ryan thought he saw someone briefly block the light coming from the hallway, but was soon pulled back by the power of Arielle's voice.  
"Daddy always thought that he married beneath him, that's what he said, that's what he said."  
Bum, bum, whispered Ryan to the sound of the drums he knew should be there.  
"When he proposed he informed my mother he was probably her very last chance. And though she was twenty-two, though she was twenty-two, though she was twenty-two, she married him."  
As she sang, her eyes lit up. Behind them, Ryan could sense the pleasure of a song sung a thousand times. She was barely even thinking about the mechanics anymore, instead her mind was focused on her actions, her stance, and her expression. With the next stanza, her eyes grew harder, acting, but as a character. This is the kind of vocalist that they were looking for.  
"Life with my dad wasn't ever a picnic, more like a come as you are. When I was five, I remember my mother dug earrings out of the car. I knew they weren't hers but it wasn't something you want to discuss. He wasn't warm. Well, not to her. Not to us."  
She slowly began to raise her arms above her head like a ballerina, stepping one foot forward.  
"But everything was beautiful at the ballet. Graceful men lift lovely girls in white. Yes, everything was beautiful at the ballet! I was happy, at the ballet."  
"That's when I started class." Her face broke into a smile with the coming of what was clearly her favorite part. However, when she sang, her voice was not alone. Sarah had entered the room unseen, also here to audition. She had joined her in harmony, her voice ringing out quieter, but higher than the belting Arielle. The perfect counterpart.  
"Up a steep and very narrow stairway, to the voice like a metronome. Up a steep and very narrow stairway..."  
"It wasn't paradise." Smiled Arielle.  
"It wasn't paradise." Returned Sarah.  
"It wasn't paradise, but it was home."  
Arielle stepped out of the way and her new partner took the stage. Sarah looked down, took a deep breath, and looked up. With a little stomp on the ground, she continued where Arielle had left off.  
"Mother always said I'd be very attractive when I grew up, when I grew up. 'Different' she said, 'with a special something and very, very personal flair'. And though I was eight or nine, though I was eight or nine, though I was eight or nine, I hated her."  
She held her shoulders back up, older now, and bitter.  
"Now, 'different', is nice, but it sure isn't 'pretty' and pretty is what it's about. I've never met anyone who was different who couldn't figure that out. So beautiful, I'd never live to see. But it was clear, if not to her, well then to me."  
Her eyes lit up, then closed in retreat to memory.  
"That everyone is beautiful at the ballet. Every prince has got to have his swan. Yes, everyone is beautiful at the ballet! I was pretty, at the ballet."

~  
Ashley huddled in the corner of the alleyway. The fight had scared her, and she had nowhere to go and hide.  
The place she had tried to think of as a home, as much as she could have a home, was gone. Invaded, destroyed, by a dark, and, she admitted to herself, evil Force-user.  
A Sith.  
She seethed at the thought of the corruption of the Force she had felt, his selfish bending it and directing it to his will. That could never be the will of the Force.  
The fear boiled over into anger. She was angry at Ryan and Jaster for not warning her, at herself for only being good at one thing, at Alex for corrupting the Force, at Ryan for failing to see her for who she was rather than what she was.  
From a distant corner of the Force, music began to flow. She stopped, looked away, and began to listen as she tried to shut down the rage and fear.  
"Up a steep and very narrow stairway, to the voice like a metronome. Up a steep and very narrow stairway, it wasn't paradise, it wasn't paradise, it wasn't paradise."  
But it was home.  
Good can never defeat evil. It could only try over and over again. The only way to keep trying to win was to fight, and fight, and fight. One single loss and a thousand wins are wasted. For the fight against evil is long, and on many, many fronts. But Ashley didn't want to fight. Ashley wanted to go home. Ashley wanted to be normal for once instead of the best.  
"I don't know what they were for or against really, except each other. I mean, I was born to save their marriage, but when my father came to pick my mother up from the hospital, he said 'Well, I thought this was going to help but I guess it's not.'"  
She didn't know who was playing the music, but she did not care. It was perfect. She could feel it flowing from the Force and through her, and could hear it's call to dance.  
"Anyway, I did have fantastic fantasy life. I used to dance around the living room with my arms up like this. My fantasy was that it was an Indian chief, and he would say to me 'Ashley, do you want to dance?' and I would say 'Daddy, I would love to dance.'"  
When she danced everything was okay. When she danced, she was the best at something beautiful and only beautiful. Nothing else. There, she was the lady in white, the swan for the prince, never alone and only special when the music played.  
"Everything was beautiful at the ballet, raise your arms and someone's always there! Yes, everything was beautiful at the ballet, at the ballet, at the ballet!"  
At the high note, she gave in. She raised her arms and turned. The vision brought her to a great hall with silent spectators looking on as she was taken in the arms of an awaiting figure and lead through the room. \ She leaned into his strength and danced, following the lead of his footsteps and guidance of his gentle hands. As the music crescendoed, she pirouetted out of his arms to the end of their reach and bowed. As she looked up to see who he was, the vision passed as quickly as it had come.  
She stared off into the distance, her hand still held forward and her foot still gracefully behind her in pose.  
"I was happy." she whispered, "At the ballet.” 

 

~One of the Boys~

Special Agent Donovan was really good at his job. No shame in thinking that, since he knew it was true. It didn't matter to him that others wouldn't admit it, there comes an age where you don't need the approval of someone else to know something. Unconscious competency, they called it.  
What they didn't understand was that he was good because he believed in his job. He was a Secret Service agent, one of the best trained armed guards in the history of the world. It was his job to protect the President, and his president was a man he would give his life for in a moment and it was that love that made him the best.  
But they never listened to him about that part, their minds were stuck thinking it was their training that made them special, not their loyalty.  
"DUMBLEDORE is wrapping up his speech" crackled the voice in his earpiece. He smiled whenever he heard the name. The President's daughter had come up with his codename due to his grandfatherly and loving nature. Be whoever you want to be, the President had said, so I become a wizard.  
Donovan acknowledged over the radio. The President had just been elected and was delivering one of his first speeches in the nearby city of Rosslyn. It was a minor affair, but Donovan always took care. His team was all still stalwart and stoic, not yet in the right momentum of protecting the President. That's what you expected of a Secret Service agent, but that's not what the best should be. When Donovan moved, it was just like he was another suit in the crowd, unlike the other agents you could see a mile away.  
The applause was deafening and it always was when the new president came to town. It would die down quickly enough though, for in a few months it would be back to normal. Some crowds loud, some crowds appreciative, others neither.  
"How'd I do?" The President said breathlessly as he came offstage.  
"Excellent, sir." Agent Donovan said, turning to follow him. He raised his wrist to his mouth and spoke into his watch radio. "DUMBLEDORE’s on the move."  
Now was the hard part, getting to the car. Getting in and out of transportation was always the most vulnerable leg of the trip, just standing still for a moment in an area easily accessible from the outside. Sometimes they hang a canopy over the exit path, but not today. As they moved down towards the doors, they began to hear the roar of the ropeline. Hundreds had gathered outside to shake hands with the President or get the chance for an autograph.  
"What is that mysterious noise?" Asked the President, amused. He loved the ropeline.  
"I think they like you, sir. Please remember Mr. McGaury wants a word with you in the car on the way home."  
"Yes, yes, this won't take long." It always takes long. They opened the door and the President bounded down the stairs to the ropeline as the cheers redoubled. The President immediately proceeded to walk the line, shaking hands in earnest.  
Donovan walked close behind him, keeping his eyes on each and every person who got close, looking for that glint in the eye or the tremor in the hand betraying a violent plan. Usually he saw nothing, just excited eyes seeking a moment with their President.  
But today he looked into the eyes of a teenage boy and saw them looking back. Donovan was surprised, he was supposed to be the one nobody noticed, but there this boy was, staring right back at him while everyone else was gleefully greeting their President.  
Donovan double clicked his radio to signal to his team that he had noticed something suspicious, doubling their alertness. Turning back to attention, however, the young man was gone.  
"Alright, everyone check in." Each team member began to list their location one by one as Donovan scanned the crowd looking for anything further suspicious.  
The check-in finished, everyone had reported in.  
All save one.  
"Molly, check in." Molly was supposed to be positioned on the southeast building overlooking the ropeline. As he spoke, he turned towards the building. As he looked up he saw, just for a moment, a head pop up into view in a window then disappear. Immediately after, two men appeared each bearing a glint of metal, shattering the glass in front of them.  
"Gun!" He was already reaching down for his own. The President turned at the sound of his voice but he was already being dragged to the car by two other Secret Service agents. Screams instantly arose as automatic gunfire rained down on the crowd from the roof.  
But the bullets never made it. Movement came from the corner of his eye as the teenage boy hurled through the air, accompanied by a snap-hiss and a glowing sword of silver light. As he leapt, he stopped twenty feet in the air interposed between the gunman and Donovan. His arms spread out and a faint, wide barrier appeared in front of him rippling the view like a mirage. The bullets flying from the window seemed to slow and stop as if hitting some invisible liquid before dropping to the ground, soon followed by the young man in a graceful spin.  
Time had seemed to slow for a moment, but now it resumed in full force. Bullets rained from the window and were returned in greater volume from the agents below. Gun smoke joined the chorus of screams and cries as Donovan fired as fast as his clip would let him.  
Something stung his shoulder and he spun around before hitting the ground and feeling the warmth of his own blood on his face and back. He lay there, unmoving, and watched in awe as the young man sprinted forward into the gunfire, his blade spinning before him accompanied by small puffs and snaps with each interception. Reaching the wall, the boy jumped inhumanly high to a balcony before swinging up even farther. Running up the wall and to the side, he bounded off a drain pipe and dove cleanly through the broken window.  
The gunfire stopped instantly. The screams continued but the violence had ended. Donovan felt himself carefully turned over to the face of another agent.  
"I can get up." With a careful heave, he stabilized himself and looked around. Agents were behind cover everywhere, the President had been taken away in an armored limousine, and the sound of ambulances could be heard off in the distance. Tearing off a sleeve of his dress shirt, he wrapped it around his shoulder to hide the wound and began demanding reports.  
Agents had found their way to the windowed room and found that both assailants had been disarmed and were unconscious. There was so sign of the sword wielding warrior. No one wanted to say the word in their minds, so they continued to just call him "the boy".  
Moments later, a second report came in. The President had been hit and had hidden it until word had come that his daughter gotten to safety. A car pulled up and Donovan got in, immediately joined by the President's Chief of Staff.  
"President’s hospital, go now!" He shouted at the driver. He looked over at his companion and was not for a second fooled by his attempts to hide his wound.  
"Mark-"  
"No." Said Donovan, his gun still out as he reloaded and scanned the rapidly passing scene. "Not important." Minutes later, they had sped through the city and were at the hospital. The Chief of Staff charged out of the car past the agents now guarding the doors. Donovan followed him into the maelstrom.  
Nurses scurried around as patents were wheeled from their rooms to make more space for the wounded who were flooding in through the loading dock doors straight from Rosslyn, the indiscriminately fired automatic weaponry having found some mark. It was bad, but nowhere near as terrible as it should have.  
They quickly found the room they were looking for. The President was already in a patient's gown, looking pale as he was quickly prepared for emergency surgery. The Chief of Staff rushed to his side and the two began conversing very quietly. Donovan, however, very carefully looked around the room.  
It wasn't until his second pass that he noticed him. In an instant, his weapon was raised again as he spoke calmly and firmly. "Secret Service. Freeze and turn around with your hands up."  
The room went silent as everyone all turned towards him. In front of Donovan was the boy standing, his hands behind his back, in the corner of the room. Several people gasped at not noticing him there already. The boy looked surprised, then immediately turned with his hands up.  
"Very impressive, Special Agent." He said calmly as Donovan patted him down.  
He found an old disposable cell phone before his hands reached the back of the boy's hipbone. He felt for a moment, then withdraw a long and slightly curved metal hilt seemingly out of nothing. Putting them aside, he pulled his tie off and began to tie his hands. Finally, the rush wore off and the pain caught up with him, another agent put his hand on Donovan's arm, gently pulling him away and into the gurney of a waiting nurse.  
"Wait." Came a stronger voice than it should have been.  
The agent taking the boy away turned back.  
"Bring him here."  
The agent pushed his charge forward towards the bed. Donovan struggled with his nurses to turn to watch.  
The President looked up at the boy, his brow furrowed.  
"Master, I presume."  
"Sir." The boy said.  
"What's your name?" The President said, smiling.  
"Ryan, sir."  
The President looked around at Donovan.  
"Mark, were the gunmen hurt?"  
Donovan shook his head, tried to speak, but the shock was beginning to take hold of him.  
"Good. Thank you, Master Ryan."  
With that, Donovan fell backwards, passed out, into his gurney.

~  
The professor stayed quiet for a moment, staring up at the photo on the screen.  
"And that is the true story of Rosslyn, one of the heroism of our Secret Service aided by a mysterious warrior. We do not know if the President and the young Jedi stayed in contact, but we do know that this has been the most visible and heavy-handed action of a Jedi that we know of. Considering their power and purpose, I believe we can say this tells us a lot about their style and skill."  
"But, more questions arise, who will ask the first one?"  
A dozen hands shot up. The professor sat back down on the table in front of the room.  
"Yes, Ms. Browning."  
The red haired girl spoke up. "Sir, why do you think he interceded? The lack of a lot of notice and media attention seems more luck from the panic of the situation than skill."  
"You are absolutely right, and I expect the answer lies in the essential thing that we have to remember about the Jedi: They are not in control of themselves. They serve a Force that has an active will and an active use for the Jedi. They are but mere tools, does the hammer pick the nail that it strikes?"

~  
"Hi."  
"Um."  
Whelp, this was already exactly as awkward as he had feared. That was now the first word he had spoken to Sarah since he left her at her doorstep that night.  
Of course, he was still terrified to speak to her. But he remembered the promise he had whispered into her ear and her shining eyes told him she did too. Better say something.  
"You're a really good vocalist. Why didn't you say anything before?"  
She smiled. "It's rude to brag in the light of someone else's accomplishments."  
She started off, leading them down a hallway and past hundreds of faceless university students chattering in a low murmur. They walked in silence for a bit, winding through friends and strangers, picking their way to wherever it was that she was going. Ryan had no destination, so he just walked beside her in silence.  
Ryan hated it. This was the worst. He was walking next to the one truly not special person he knew and yet he had nothing to say. Summoning his courage, he turned to her and spoke.  
"What are you up to later tonight?" His voice came out slightly shaky, and as soon as he said it, he felt his phone vibrate.  
"Nothing," she said, coyly.  
He went for it. "Can I call you later? We'll find something to do. "  
She stopped, pulled out a small slip of paper, wrote against the wall, and then handed it to him. "Don't you dare call too late, it's rude to keep a lady waiting." She smiled, turned, and entered a close classroom door.  
Turning away, he looked down at the slip of paper at the ten digit number inscribed there.  
"Ooo, girl number." He muttered to himself as he pulled out his phone and read the text. Unknown number, DC area code, a time. He sighed. He hoped that this did not go too late for Sarah. The thought of time spent with her was so much more important to him than summons from the President.  
He didn't respond, instead he forwarded the text to different memorized number. Then he moved along, a little lighter in his step.

~  
"Alright, I'll take your word for it that the visions aren't good. But what do you mean by eventually?" She asked.  
"I think they are expected at about fifteen."  
"Wait, that's really young. From the way that you were talking about them, I was expecting older, kind of like going senile."  
"Unfortunately, it's much younger than that."  
She looked confused. "If they come so early, they really can't be that bad."  
"It's not quite that simple. Jedi do not live very long. I'm the oldest Jedi alive today, and the oldest ever as far back as I can find."  
Her jaw dropped, stunned for a moment.  
He continued, his voice not changing. "I am a warrior, called to set an example and fight evil wherever it is. Not just any evil, but cruel evil served by others, evil with no patience, no compromise, and no mercy. The will of the Force cares not the results, just that the fight continues. Do you expect someone like that to live very long?"

~  
The President was in his office at his desk staring at the clock. It was two minutes 'til and he expected Jedi Master Ryan to be exactly on time. He trusted the Jedi, for he had shown him nothing but loyalty and a good heart, but he understood both that he only knew this one Jedi and that it was hard for the others who weren't at Rosslyn to understand. We don't like what we don't understand, in fact it scares us.  
One minute. He was going to have to ask something of the young Jedi that he definitely would prefer that the President hadn't. Then again, he would be shocked if the Jedi did not see it coming. As always, compromise was the name of the game, but it did not make happy partnerships.  
He watched the clock turn to 9:00 PM then looked up to see a young man and a young lady in front of his desk at attention. He smiled.  
"Punctual as always, Master Ryan. And this, I assume, is the lady Ashley that you spoke of so well."  
She looked uncomfortable as she gave a stiff bow. "Mr. President."  
"Thank you for coming, Master Jedi."  
"I felt that an ally was necessary, as another example." Her companion offered.  
"A fellow member of the Order is always welcome in this office." He rose and motioned them to the couch while seating himself in the armchair beside it.  
"Thank you both for coming on such short notice. I'm afraid I have a request of you, Master Ryan."  
Ryan nodded, Ashley remained stock still and staring straight ahead.  
"Certain parties, both within the government and without, do not trust you. All for reasons you have heard and reasons that you have done little to dissuade." He looked at Ryan, who almost looked away at the memory of his situation room outburst. "But, I will not so easily entertain notions of control, however your opposition might disguise itself in good intentions."  
He looked at Ashley and bowed his head. "My apologies, young lady."  
She did not respond, rather continued to stare at the wall.  
He continued, "Nor will I ask you to return to your life of silence and solitude, I think we have all accepted that must end soon, regardless of our wishes. Instead, I must ask you a favor, one my advisors have not unreasonably called a test, others have called as a duty. Others still yet will call it treason."  
Here it comes. "But, I have faith in you, so I have no shame in asking. We found the chief perpetrator of the Rosslyn attack, and I want you to accompany a Special Forces team on a covert operation, a team I believe you have met previously."  
He didn't need to be a Jedi to see the response to his request from Ashley as her eyes flicked to him, to Ryan, and then back to the wall. Ryan' reaction was more hidden, but undoubtedly was still surprised. The President sat and waited for the protest. There was silence for a moment before the young Master spoke.  
"Sir, it is against the Jedi Code to kill."  
His companion turned to look at him after his objection, as if there was something else she had been expecting. Her stare did not return to the wall.  
"Your service will save that might otherwise be lost."  
"You must understand that I will not be a part of any death. It is my duty is to protect all life, even if those I protect are the killers."  
"The objectives of the mission are to capture, not kill."  
"Then, yes, I will go."  
"No!"  
Ryan and the President turned to Ashley. She had stood up and was looking down at Ryan.  
"How about 'this is not the will of the Force'? It guides us, we do not drag it along with us at the desires of others."  
"The will of the Force is not so explicit, and the potential to do good with allies is far greater than with our powers alone. Besides, how do you know this isn't the will of the Force?"  
"It's wrong! You can't just decide to go against the will of the Force, you're already stretching your limits enough just by being alive, what if-"  
"Guardian."  
The voice rang with through the Force as if from that of a man thirty years older holding all the authority of a one who had seen and done twice that and more. Ashley stared down at Ryan as his mouth closed.  
"Permission to leave, Mr. President." She said, glaring at her master.  
The President looked at both of them in turn. "You may, have a gentle evening, lady Guardian."  
"Thank you." She looked curtly at Ryan. "Master."  
They stayed silent until the door closed.  
"I apologize, Mr. President."  
"There is no need, I believe I understand."  
"Yes sir, then you understand that she is completely right. May I think on it?"  
"You may take all the time that you need. Thank you for your time this evening, please return when you have decided."  
Both rose, and the President returned to the desk where he had begun, the Jedi gone before he even got there. 

~  
Agent Donovan loved personal defense sessions. Even with years over the other agents, he was still king of the mat. The best had come here to teach and he had loved to learn.  
The whistle sounded. Him and his sparring opponent ungrappled and separated. Bowing to each other, his opponent slid to the agent next to him. Donovan wiped the sweat off his brow as he looked up to see who his next opponent in the line would be.  
Instead of a familiar face, he found in front of him a young barefoot Asian girl, clearly no older than sixteen, with her light black hair tied back in a ponytail and clothed in a loose red embroidered dress. She bowed, he did not.  
"Um, hello miss, how did you get in here?"  
Everyone else turned around to see what such odd words could refer to and they were just as confused as he was.  
She rose from her bow and, as if surprised that they had even bothered to ask, said "I saw you sparing and I wanted to join. My name is Ashley, a Jedi Knight in service of the Order." Everyone stood in silence for a moment, and then began to laugh.  
But Donovan knew better and motioned for everyone to be quiet. He turned to her, now recognizing what he had mistaken for naivety. "It is an honor that you would join us today, Master Jedi, do not mind the others. I would love to spar with you, but I fear you are unequipped and a little too young."  
She smiled as if she had heard this a thousand times. "I accept the possibilities and dangers of fighting unarmed and unprotected."  
Donovan dropped into a fighting stance.  
"So, you're one of the boys then, Master Jedi? No lady like duties for you."  
She dropped back one foot, shook back her sleeves, and held out her hands in a martial pose. The other agents eagerly began to back away for a better view. With the room silent, all eyes were on their champion and his unexpected partner.  
I saw a spider and I didn't scream. I can belch the alphabet, just double-dog-dare me.  
Donovan advanced, jabbing his fists forward in a familiar pattern testing her defenses and reflexes. Ashley stepped back blocking blow after blow, turning them off their aim with a soft touch. While his arms fully extended, none had hit their marks.  
Just cause I didn't get guitar over ballet, doesn't mean I can't take these suckers down cause they just get in my way.  
Donovan turned and fired off a thrust kick out, but Ashley sidestepped, dipped underneath, and rapped him four times in the chest causing him to stumble away. The agent quickly recovered as he spun around to grab Ashley from behind and attempt to pull her in a head lock.  
The way he looks at me is kind of like a little sister. He high-fives his goodbyes and it leaves me nothing but blisters.  
Before he could pull her into his grip, she slipped underneath and came up behind him. Putting her foot in the back of his knee to bring him down to her level, she leapt up and delivering a spinning kick to the side of his protective helmet.  
Because I don't want to be one of the boys, one of your guys, just give me a chance to prove to you tonight that I just want to be one of the girls. Pretty in pearls, but not one of the boys.  
Donovan came to a stop sprawled across the floor several meters away. He got up, sputtering for breath while his fellow agents stood in shocked silence. He turned to look at Ashley, still in her stance, and smiled. As soon as he did the tension broke. Ashley stood down, bowed, and began looking for another partner. One by one they came, each dropping at the same speed as the first. Each time, their respect for the young Jedi grew more.  
Over the summer something changed. I started reading "Seventeen" and shaving my legs, I studied "Lolita" religiously.  
She paused. The belted high note, the current of the river gently sweeping over her bare feet, the dreamlike sensation of flying through the air.  
And you walked right in and I caught you staring at me.  
Above her on the viewing bleachers sat Ryan, watching her, and smiling. She finished her opponent with barely another thought before turning towards him and raising her hand in challenge, just like younger times.  
I know what you know, but now you're gonna have to take my number.  
He bounded off the bleachers and glided gracefully to the ground in front of her. Together they both turned to Agent Donovan and bowed before turning to each other and bowing again. Rising, they set to familiar stances.  
It's okay, it’ll be one day, but with it you better give me my diamond ring.  
She attacked first, spinning in and striking at his face, but his arms came up to block. With her last punch locked between his arms, he turned away to flip her over his head and onto the mat behind him. She got to midair above his head, before releasing herself and flying a kick under her at his head. He caught that too, but not before she brought the other leg around to finally land a gravity defying hit to his face.  
She landed and followed up with a charge led by a single fist, but he was gone. Their spectators gasped as his acrobatics, but she was too familiar with his style. Sensing him behind her, she turned throwing out her hand out to block any incoming attack.  
He caught her hand and enveloped it in his own, forcing her to continue her spin inside his guard. As she spun, the scene again began to blur and change. Again, her sight darkened and the visions returned to her ballroom. This time, ballroom was smaller, sparser, and darker. Dressed to fit in a shorter dress, she began spinning anchored by the hand of her mysterious partner. Faster and faster, I want to be a flower, not a dirty weed. I want to smell like roses, not a baseball team. And I swear, maybe one day, you're going to want to make out-  
Her spin slowed at the edge of her partner's fingertips.  
-make out-  
She posed to the applause and turned to face her partner.  
-make out with me.  
But she was back to the inside of Ryan's guard, her vision gone again. She responded with a series of kicks, some through the air that he ducked beneath, others low that he leapt and cart wheeled over. Again and again she attacked, blocked or only glancing.  
Don't want to be. As she returned to the ground from her last kick, she brought her hands up and out where they were joined by her twin lightsabers. Orange snap-hissed to life and she spun in bringing each to bear one after another, each met by the instantaneous reaction of his silver blade.  
Because I don't want to be one of the boys, one of your guys. Just give me the chance to prove tonight that I just want to be your homecoming queen, your poster dream, not one of the boys.  
Ryan riposted but she locked the blade inside hers, bringing it down and towards her while whipping her back foot around to thrust kick him solidly in the chest. Pulling his lightsaber into her offhand, she leapt forward to point her mainhand at his throat where he laid on the ground, his own weapon and her other held reversed behind her.  
"Yield." She said.  
He nodded, smiling.

 

~The Head and the Heart~ 

There he was, right on time, walking and talking smartly with two other similarly suited men. They stopped, shook hands, parted ways, and returned black gloves to their hands furthering the illusion of a matching set. The elevator opened, and he stepped in.  
To his credit, the suited man didn't even look up, much less look surprised when it became clear that his departure had not made him alone. He simply greeted his new travelling companion as if they were two coworkers casually riding up the elevator together again.  
"Master Ryan, what a pleasant surprise."  
Ryan responded softly. With no threat of violence to aid him, his words were his sharpest sword.  
"I just wanted you to understand that I can find you anywhere and at anytime."  
"That is very kind of you to keep tabs on me, Master Jedi."  
Even though this was a very busy office building, the elevator did not stop, gently nudged that maybe today was a good day to take the stairs.  
"The President has asked me to assist a special forces operation." Ryan said matter of factly following a moment a silence.  
"Interesting, the Jedi attending to an earthly matter. I am glad to hear that our concerns have not fallen on deaf ears."  
Ryan took a leap of faith. "This was all your idea, the Jedi marching in step with the military. Or, more accurately, it was the Sith's."  
The suited man stopped intently studying his destination options turned to him. “Not everything is a scheme of grand evil. I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation, Master Jedi. You are dangerous, and all anyone wishes is that you answer to a mortal power."  
"Your goals are so small and shortsighted." Ryan responded angrily. "There are things that you do not and cannot possibly understand, things that only the Jedi hold back from the realm of men. Do you really want to see that power weakened?"  
The suited man turned back to his apparently difficult decision of which floor would grace his presence next. To Ryan, that point was all that mattered. He couldn't see how anything could possibly supersede it.  
"You can keep preaching, Master Ryan, but your sermon means nothing. The Jedi don't know anything but violence, how long until your power is turned on those whom you claim to protect? Are not the Sith already a sign of that? What if the Jedi are already slipping down the slope?"  
That was not an empty suggestion.  
"What do you know." Ryan said, trying to find the appropriate amount of menace.  
"Just remember that everyone, Jedi or not, wants something that they will go to great ends to obtain."  
"You sound like your Sith."  
"Why you haven't even met them yet."  
"I don't need to meet them, I already know who they are. They have selfishly corrupted the power that they were blessed to protect. They direct what they should serve. Their time will come."  
Finally, the suited man made a selection, and the door dinged and opened. The suited man turned, and looked at Ryan. While they were equal height, the suited man held himself with a self-assured confidence that even Ryan felt like he was looking up.  
"Indeed it will, Master Ryan. Yet while you fixate the differences between you and them, compared to the differences between both and the rest of us, do they really matter?"

~  
"Yes, Mr. Frazier. And after this one, let's get some different hands in the air."  
"How old do you think he is?"  
The Professor paused for a moment. The class snickered, thinking the question was stupid.  
"That's a very astute question. Why do you ask?"  
"Well, if he's a warrior guided by the Force to fight evil, I don't think he's going live very long. I mean, come on, this isn't Hollywood. If so, then wouldn't their Jedi training keep getting pushed earlier and earlier for more effective time? What if Jedi are much younger than we imagine them to be?"  
"Very good, your logic explains why the Jedi are so hard to trace in history and why what clues we have are only recent."  
"But sir, that was just an idea that I had and it's based on nearly no evidence."  
"Yes, that is true, but that is forgivable because there is so little evidence to be had. This is what I'm talking about, people, we can draw conclusions that will help us find answers. We'll keep these in mind and see if they stick, or at least until another idea tells us otherwise." 

~  
This time, he was ready for visitors. The visions had faded and he was looking up at his work for the first time just as he sensed her coming. He panicked at first, then he patted himself down to make sure his precious small black case was hidden from sight and that this wasn't just another drug enhanced vision.  
The glistening of the sweat on her brow, the beat of the music driving you to move, and the subtle twists and turns therein.  
Ashley entered tonight's art gallery and stood by his side. Together, they studied the painting in front of them, neither immediately willing to share their thoughts.  
After a minute, Ashley turned to look around the formerly bare empty alleyway.  
"Do you think they ever stop to wonder who their mysterious artist is? Your entire life is laid out on the walls of the city."  
"I don't think they care as long as they can sell them on coffee mugs." Jaster muttered back.  
The portrait in front of them was mostly black slowly fading into the dark grey concrete. At the center, a shining point of light tried to throw back the darkness. What light did pierce the surrounding veil grew up and over forming the shadow of a hand coming back down on the light that had given it form.  
Ashley knew that the Force fueled his imagination, but she didn't know that he had help. The visions completely took over him now. He didn't know what he had created until he had opened his eyes.  
Ashley smiled at the mural. “Latest theory is that you’re some edgy anti-capitalist, I can’t wait to hear what local news thinks this one means."  
"If only. I've seen it."  
Ashley's smile stopped abruptly. She turned to him, genuine worry in her eyes.  
"I’ve seen this one," Jaster whispered somberly, reaching out to touch the tiny point of light, "I fought Darkness, I fought his sins. I looked into its eyes and I held nothing back. But I failed, and I ran. What kind of watchmen am I now then? How can I protect Ryan? How can I protect you?"  
Jaster was thankful for her silence, and withdrawing his hand from the painting he sighed. "I can't tell him, he won't be able to handle it. He's been taking his life for granted."  
"He's going to agree to help the military. It's not the will of the Force."  
"Neither is this!" Jaster slammed his fist on the painting in anger. Ashley just stared.  
After a minute he let go and, exhausted, leaned his head against the wall. "Ryan will do whatever drives him closer to death. It's sacrifice to him."  
"I don't know. I just saw him, he was happy. We dueled, I won, he smiled."  
“And that made you happy?" Jaster turned his head, keeping it on the wall, and grinned at her.  
Ashley immediately turned red. "What? No, I don't-No."  
"Alright, whatever you say, Guardian."  
An awkward silence overtook the conversation until Ashley stepped forward to place her palm like a child's against the overshadowing hand.  
"It has to be something. Ryan must be hiding something, or maybe just not telling us."  
"We’ll have to trust him. He will, and always has, chosen his own path.” Jaster straightened up. “Even if it kills him."  
He reached forward and lifted her hand from the painting and guided it up to the fingers. Barely visible behind the knuckles were two rings. He placed hers upon the pinky and its glittering silver ring and placed his own on the thumb and its lighting blue ornament.  
"We have our own challenges to face, Guardian. These ones we can stop."

~  
She didn’t speak for a minute, and the couch squeaked as she shifted.  
"That's so...sad. You say it like it's inevitable, like you're staring up at the sky waiting for death to fall out on top of you."  
"Yes, well, if that's the will of the Force, then so be it. So has said every Jedi before me and so will every one that comes afterward."  
"Why does the Force get to decide when you live and when you die? You are free!"  
He was quiet at her exclamation, for it was perfect. He looked down at the rose in her hands and breathed out. The rose gracefully floated out of her ginger hold and stayed between them. Reaching out, he gently plucked it from the air and looked at it, whispering.  
"It surrounds us, penetrates us, and binds the galaxy together. My stewardship comes with costs that must be paid in exchange for a power even I barely understand. I am not free for what if I was not controlled? If I were free to conquer and to destroy, what could possibly stand in my way?"

~  
Ryan looked up at the faces around him as he weaved forward in the crowd. Each one shared the same tired and sleepy look on their faces. The older the traveler, the more intense the look. The suited man's words had stuck with him, what matter were the differences between him and the Sith compared to those between him and whom he now shared the sidewalk with?  
He supposed that from their point of view, the difference did not matter. If the Jedi stopped hiding, would their lives even change? How many would react like the suited man?  
This was a thought that had never occurred to him before. What if the Jedi weren't accepted? In fact, why should the Jedi be accepted? They weren't angels; they weren’t without sin. Could the Jedi just reveal themselves and be welcomed into the world with open arms?  
Ryan had no answers to offer to his own questions. He could preach, as the suited man had called it, with the entire world in attendance but that would probably mean nothing. It had taken violence and then hours on the couch for Sarah to get what and why he was, and even then he was still praying that she understood. How could he share like that to the entire world?  
He would need to show them, for words alone would not suffice. The President was right, he could not have both legitimacy and mystery. If he accepted the President’s invitation, maybe then the world would see the Jedi for who they truly were: a light upon the world and a shining beacon of hope for all to see and never fear.  
How could he ever be with Sarah unless he found a way to make everyone understand that?  
That question hit him like a truck and he stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, causing the sidewalk crowd to angrily part around him. Where had that question come from? He hadn't even been thinking of her. If he could show the world who the Jedi are, maybe he might be able to show Sarah he was worthy of her too. Was the will of the Force even a factor in his decision, or was he just chasing some girl he barely knew?  
But she was a girl that made his heart rise at the whisper of her name, a girl that made him stop and search around desperately the faint reminder of her presence. That’s how the will of the Force should feel, not a contest between faith and nagging doubt.  
Surely, only the will of the Force would let him feel like this. He’ll show the world who the Jedi truly are. But first, he needed to tell Sarah how he felt.  
He took out the carefully pocketed slip of paper and stared at the neatly inscribed number. Pulling out his phone, he dialed the number. Turning away to stare into the late evening, he listened to the rings, each one seemingly slower than the last.  
Her answer came with a rage of noise. Music, very loud music. Sarah was at the club.  
"Hello? It's Ryan."  
"What?"  
"I said it's Ryan-"  
"Hello, Hello, you called and I can't hear a thing, I have got no service at the club."  
"Yeah, I can tell."  
"What, what did you say, you're breaking up on me. Sorry, I cannot hear you! I'm kinda busy."  
Busy? She was at the club, what kind of busy was that? Fear made his heart drop into his stomach.  
Through the phone he heard another voice he recognized as Arielle's. She exclaimed something excitedly that Ryan could not hear, but he could barely even pull Sarah's voice out from the music.  
"Just a second it's my favorite song they're gonna play and I cannot text you with a drink in my hand."  
"Where are you? I'll come to you."  
"You should have made some plans with me you knew that I was free, so now you can stop calling me, I'm kinda busy!"  
A click sounded and the music stopped, she had hung up. Ryan redialed the phone. It dialed twice then went through to voice mail, the second redial lasted even shorter, the third went straight to the message box. Her phone was off.  
Ryan shoved his phone back into his pocket. His throat began to clench and his mind spun through a thousand scenarios to explain her response, each one less likely than the last. What had changed? What had he done? Where a scarce few minutes earlier he had been fine, now his heart struggled to rise above the torrent. How easy it had been to throw him into disarray.  
But he could still remember the little things. He could still remember her touch on his knee and her hand in his hold. He couldn't stand the thought of losing her now, he had promised her and she had smiled.

~  
Welcome to wonderland where never-never finds you for one enchanted night of dreams disguised as swirling light. Ten thousand friends, they make an ecstasy of motion. You're floating, rolling, free, and life is as it ought to be. The club music weaved through the sea of bodies pulling its entranced closer into the whirlpool. Blue light flashed across Ryan’s face and moved on around the room, stopping for a moment on a blonde girl barely covered in black streaked with glittering silver dancing with her eyes closed and her hands running through her hair. The passing light picked up the silver shine and carried it across the crowd briefly illuminating the sweating, pulsating mess.  
Ryan craned his head and tried to look through and over the crowd. Hopelessness crept up into his chest as he realized the true magnitude of his quest to find Sarah. It was dark, everyone was moving, and everyone looked the same.  
Ryan pressed into the dancers and opened up to the Force. Lust, anger, success, sadness, fear, joy, confusion, ecstasy, and hope all blended and whirled around him into a raging maelstrom of emotion. Ryan felt the joy, confusion and helplessness, and even more filled with the same anger and despair that Ryan was dreading.  
He pressed his hand against shoulders and backs as he tried to navigate through the maze all the while straining to see through the darkness and pick out her familiar feeling from storm.  
Bodies closed around him and he struggled to continue. A small palm placed on center of his chest stopped what little progress he was making. The lithe blonde girl pressed up against him and looked up at him with the strangest look in her blue eyes. Ryan stared back, could not move, and didn’t really feel like he wanted either.  
"Hello."  
Even through the rage of noise around him where everyone else was shouting just to be heard above a whisper, her voice came clean to his ears as if the very club itself had yielded to her presence. He felt a rise in his heart as her hips began to rock gently to the beat.  
"Move."  
The riptide pulled him under at her command, and he obeyed. He could feel the music run itself through his veins and call his body to push up against hers and dance along. She kept her hand on his chest, gently pulling him closer and drawing him deeper into the music. It didn’t bother him anymore that it wasn’t his music. He was perfectly fine with it being hers.  
It was like when he fell into the Force, when his fingers left the strings and drew the music straight from the air. The difference here was that now the Force was pulling something out of him.  
"I know you can put more into it than that, Jedi."  
He instantly felt two parts of him divide, each in their own direction. Ryan tried to pull away, but he couldn't make himself do it.  
"How do you know who I am?" He whispered into her ear.  
She gave a slight pouty face, a little disappointed. "You’ve left your head and your heart on the dancefloor."  
"Kate." She fit Jaster's description, but he had not felt her trace. He reached out and searched with the Force, and felt no surprise when he found it.  
It had become the beat of the club. He had found her at the center of the dancefloor, now the center of the maelstrom, dancing alone in its eye and reveling in the chaos around her. It was just like the corruption Ashley reported she had sensed from Alex. Yet another Sith had taken the Force and molded it into something of her own creation and to her own direction. 

Now feeling this place for what it truly was, he brought his arm up to strike her with his elbow and turn away for more room to fight, but she gracefully caught his hand and spun inside his guard. Nestling with her back to his chest, she moved his hands slowly down her hips, her fingers interlocked with his.  
"Careful. You're in my house now."  
"Why are you here?"  
"That's boring, the more interesting question is why are you here? The one thing you can count on is everyone is here for the exact same reason. They can't hide it, and no matter how much they might deny it, they really just want each other."  
"That's not why I'm here."  
"It's not? I doubt that. You're not special. You're still a boy and boys want things too."  
"Not me."  
"Not you?" She leaned back and spoke to him with her cheek against his. "Yet still wondering around here with your head in the air searching for someone? Don't think I don't see them every night. You've been a naughty Jedi, where is she?"  
A chill snaked down his spine, he stopped moving.  
"Oh, of course I know," she said, sensing his fear. "And of course you want her. Didn't you hear me say that you're a boy? Boys are terribly predictable."  
He pulled his fingers out from hers and tried to step back. She turned with his step and blocked his reflexive strike. Catching his arm, she put her palm inside his elbow and turned inside of his arms again. He brought his other hand up to rip her away, but she caught that hand too and brought them both down past her midriff to the front of her thighs.  
"I know exactly where your mind goes every time you see her," She leaned back again to whisper seductively up into his ear. "I'm an expert."  
He brought his knee up into the back of hers in an attempt to bring her to the ground. She slid hers to the side and around his, spinning around him. He responded with both fists, but she deftly grabbed both with one hand and grabbed his chin with her other. To anyone else paying attention, it would have looked that the two of them were locked in dance.  
Gently turning his chin side to side in her grip, she smiled coyly at him. "You'd do, that determined look, quiet poise. I could be convinced."  
Ryan was cautious, nothing in his face. Anything could betray his secret.  
"I'm going to take her from you, just because I can." She whispered, then pulled his head down, pressed her forehead against his, and smiled. "Because I am free, and that's life."  
"You cannot tempt me."  
She stared at him hard for a moment and let go of his chin and wrists. Patting him on the cheek, she moved on gracefully sliding through the crowd. Time and sound zoomed back to the present and he realized again how loud it was in here.  
He pushed back out of the crowd, reached the edge, and came eye to eye with Sarah.  
"Sarah, I-"  
"Who was that?"  
His throat clenched. What was he supposed to say? He was flirting with a Sith?  
"What? Who, her? She was no one, it’s just-"  
"Just? Just what? Just the club? You were the center of the room."  
"No, she's," he looked around behind him, "...gone. Why didn't you answer your phone?"  
"Because I wasn't going to sit around waiting for you to call all night. Whatever, your life is hard, I'll be dancing."  
"Sarah, please, I came here for you."  
She turned back to him, they were shouting just to be barely heard above the club. Her face was hard.  
"I tried to understand you, but I can't. You're just another boy. It's not that I don't like you, I'm just at a party and I am sick and tired of my phone ringing. Sometimes I feel like I live in Grand Central Station, and tonight I'm not taking your call and I'll be dancing."  
She spun on her heels and reentered the crowd. Ryan did not want to know where she was going, or what she was going to do, he did not want those images in his mind.

~Set Fire to the Rain~

Empty was the way that she liked it. She didn't need an audience. One foot stepped carefully in front of the other to cross the freshly mopped, black, wooden floor. Reaching the middle she spun on her toes, leapt, and sailed graceful through the air. Landing, she crouched and spun again on her heels. As she danced, she let the sticky sweet scent of the evening's sweat fill her nose. It had faded since last call, but she could still sense the faintest traces of the pulsating crowd that had barely fit into the space a few hours previously.  
Ashley needed a new home. Not to live, but a place to return to, to be safe, to maybe forget about her life. Maybe even a place where she could let go of her fear and her confusion.  
The club was closed now, this evening's club rats had scurried back to their holes. Now it was empty and it was hers. She had no interest in returning to the ballet studio that had graciously hosted her previously. It had been violated and now meant nothing. It was not empty.  
She stopped, remembering Alex’s lightning storming around her. There had been nothing she could do. The fear she had felt at that realization flooded back into her. She shut it down and tried to push it away. Not now, right now she wanted to forget she was a Jedi. That's what home was supposed to do.  
It was supposed to be a place where she could be normal. Okay, maybe normal people didn't sneak into empty clubs in the middle of the night, but it's not like she knew anything different. It's not like at any other point in her life she had been free to figure out anything other than what "Jedi" and "Guardian" meant.  
Jedi meant sacrifice, it meant throwing everything one was at evil and even then not being enough. It meant being ready at any time to give up what little she had gathered at the will of the Force.  
Guardian? It's what her master had whispered when she had danced circles around the greatest martial teachers in the world. It's what they said with the utmost respect when they called her name. She did not know why, it had all seemed so easy.  
Then, then the lightning had come. Then Alex had spread his fingers and tore apart the Force in front of her eyes. Filled with anger and hate, he gleefully threw everything she had known into her face and there had been nothing she could do but run. What do you do when your greatest warrior flees in terror?  
One foot caught up too quickly with the other and she went tumbling headfirst into the floor. Laying there in a heap, she began to cry.  
She cried because she wanted to give up but she didn't know how. She didn't know anything other than what she was and she even wasn't sure if she had the capacity to be anything else.  
She cried because her heart rose when she saw Ryan. When she had turned to see him watching her on the bleachers, he had smiled at her in such a way that made her feel different. It reminded her why he was the only one she trusted.  
"Ooh, it wouldn't due for him to see you on crumpled up on the floor like that."  
No, absolutely it would not. She had to be graceful, pretty, and perfect. She had to be like-  
Like a coy enticing smile curling up behind a beckoning finger, like the tap-tap of black high heels on the floor, like and the eyes narrowing and calling hungrily.  
Like Kate.  
Ashley rose to her feet and turned to see the blonde woman leaning against the wall of the club. She wore her trace like a silk robe, barely wrapped around her waist and hiding no intentions.  
"Please leave." Please don't take this place away from me too.  
Kate let out a single huff of laughter. "This place is as much mine as it is yours."  
Returning to her smile, she rose from the wall and began to step towards Ashley, one foot slipping directly in front of the other.  
"And his too, you missed him tonight."  
Ashley began to retreat, she wanted nothing of Kate. Not to listen, not to talk, and not to fight.  
"What? Are you embarrassed? Do exactly what you want, there are no rules for people like you and I. Take a deep breath, Guardian, and feel it."  
What was she going to do, not breathe? Glancing down, she drew in the late night’s club air again. Deep down past the sweat and the sticky sweetness she felt a familiar trace. It was hiding, cloaked in fear and uncertainty, but tenderly she unwrapped it and drew it out of its shell.  
It was Ryan, but it was different. It wasn't steadfast and stoic. It was out of element, fighting through a maze of unfamiliar feelings and getting lost.  
"What have you done?" She asked, trying to shake off the trace while frantically searching through it for something familiar to hold on to.  
"I told him how you feel. Then I told him I am going to take you away."  
Ashley's back thumped against the wall as Kate's words sank in. Her checks reddened with embarrassment. Kate was mere steps away from her now, with each step filling the room with her presence. Ashley couldn't retreat any more, and she was scared.  
"Who do you think you are? Good enough for a master of the Force? That is no cheap title. Compared to him, you're nothing. He came here, looking for what you can't give him, feeling what you can't feel."  
She closed in and put her hand on the wall behind Ashley's shoulder. Ashley's hands pressed against the wood in hopes that she could squeeze herself just a little bit further away. Her eyes never left Kate's, wide and helpless.  
"There's order in the universe, the strong rule and the strong get the strong. For all your grace, talent, and skill, you still cower. You are not strong. That won't do, the strong do what they want because they can."  
Kate leaned closer, inches from her face.  
"The strong take."  
She closed the last remaining distance and kissed her. Ashley's eyes widened and she froze.  
For all her dreams and fantasies, this was never what she had imagined. This moment was supposed to be perfect. It was supposed to be with someone perfect. How dare she -  
After only a fraction of a second, Kate released her. Staying still close, Kate licked her red painted lips and whispered into her ear.  
"This was never the way I planned, not my intention. I got so brave, drink in hand, lost my discretion."  
Still unable to find the will to move, Ashley stood stock still as the sensation of Kate's kiss burned on her lips. Kate smiled devilishly as her words slipped into Ashley's barely registering ears.  
"It's not what I'm used to, just want to try it on. I'm curious for you, caught my attention!"  
Her first kiss had not been for Kate. Ashley finally summoned her will, reached up, and shoved Kate away. Her hands dropped, unclipped both lightsabers from her waist, and ignited their bright orange blades. Her unsteady defiance barely pushed back the overpowering presence of the Force forced down on her by the Sith in front of her.  
"I kissed a girl and I liked it! The taste of her cherry chap-stick..."  
Unbothered by the shove, Kate drew her double length lightsaber hilt from behind her back and pale blue blades sprang from both sides. Holding it horizontally in front of her, she grinned mockingly at her opponent.  
"I kissed a girl just to try it, hope your boyfriend don't mind it."  
Enraged at her taunt, Ashley set one foot up against the wall behind her and launched herself high into the air, her lightsabers held above her head in a crude attempt to impale Kate for a quick finish. Kate easily parried the clumsy attack and pushed Ashley's weapons towards the floor. With her locked down, Kate leaned in close again.  
"It felt so wrong, it felt so right, don't mean I'm in love tonight. I kissed a girl and I liked it, I liked it!"  
Ashley pulled and wrenched herself from Kate's parry. Kate stepped back began to build a glowing shield of twirling pale blue light around her. Ashley's eyes searched the spinning staff for a weak spot while her mouth worked for a response.  
"You don't even know my name."  
"It doesn't matter," Kate laughed from behind her defenses. "You're my experimental game, just human nature. It's not what good girls do, not how they should behave. But my head gets so confused, hard to obey!"  
Ashley gave up trying to find a hole and just lunged. It was stupid, it wasn't graceful, and it wasn't worthy of being a Jedi Guardian, but Kate had to die. Her strikes were shrugged off again and again by Kate's defensive technique, and soon enough a now familiar fear began to well up inside her and threaten to take over again. Ashley's attention was severely divided, part to the fight that deserved her whole being, part to the brief flashes of lightning and Alex's maniacal laugher, and part to the still fresh and foreign sensation on her lips.  
Kate's lightsaber moved a degree too high and Ashley desperately charged in. One orange blade caught the staff and brought it up, while she moved in to strike with the other. As she attacked, her world began to fade. No, no, no, she thought, not now. She tried to focus solely on her attack, but the scene was changing. Kate turned out to avoid the charge and Ashley landed with her back to Kate's chest.  
Then the visions returned.  
The club was still empty, but it was different now. Lights flashed and the music roared. Ashley's white shirt revealed one shoulder as it stuck to her sweaty skin. She felt his hands run down her hips as they moved together to the overpowering beat and bass of the music. This wasn't dancing, and she hated it, it was grinding your body against another as if they hadn't already noticed you. She felt his chin on her shoulder and cheek against her cheek. His mouth moved, but Kate's voice was what was whispering into her ear.  
"Us girls we are so magical, soft skin, red lips, so kissable. Hard to resist so touchable. Too good to deny it, ain't no big deal it's innocent!"  
Ashley pulled herself away from him and turned to see who he was. The music abruptly stopped and the lights shut off as the turn instead pulled her from the vision and out from inside Kate's defenses. Shocked that she was somehow still alive, she retreated rapidly as Kate was now on the offensive and snapping out towards her shins and her face. One side of her double bladed lightsaber struck and then when rebuffed led the other.  
Ashley sloppily defended herself as she backed away. Yielding bit by bit as both Kate's presence and martial skill began to wear her down.  
Her offhand dropped to defend against a leg sweep but the blade caught nothing. Fearing the worse, Ashley looked up to find that Kate nowhere, leaving only her mocking and taunting trace.  
Realizing that she was gone, Ashley barely had the presence of mind to deactivate her weapons before dropping them to the ground. She soon followed them, her knees hitting the floor as she broke down and cried.

~  
A voice snickered before its owner caught and locked it down. The professor looked at the skinny balding boy with a hole in his shirt.  
"Is something funny?"  
"Uh, no sir, I'm sorry."  
"No, please share, if you think of something clever you should let the class know."  
The boy looked slightly uncomfortable with the attention of the whole class on him.  
"Well, it must suck to be a Jedi so young, like you'd still have to go through puberty and stuff..."  
The class began to laugh and the boy's confidence grew.  
"...I mean, imagine zits, homework, sex dreams, telekinesis. It's already hard enough already without the Force to deal with too."  
The professor smiled.  
"Very funny, Mr. Gibson. Your creativity does bring up interesting points. The Jedi are still human with all our faults and all our strengths. They don't get a free pass, in fact I'm not sure we can count them as even having that much of an advantage, but rather another challenge stacked on top of one of the most challenging phases of life. Tell me, Mr. Gibson, what were you thinking about at the age of fourteen?"  
"Girls," He grinned at the red haired girl next to him. “Sup.”  
"So was I. And probably, so are the Jedi, and I very much doubt they are more prepared for growing up than we were."

~  
He came here looking for what you can’t give him, feeling what you can’t feel. The words pushed their way into her thoughts again. She couldn't think without Kate's voice echoing through her mind. The grin, the sneer, the blonde hair, the gentle tingle of her red painted lips. Her head was swimming and she could still feel the air moving over the foreign and not yet fading sensation on her lips. No matter how many times she brought up her sleeve to wipe it away, it was still there.  
She trudged through the rain without much of a destination, just a mind racing through the events of that night. It had started raining sometime during her brief fight with Kate, but anything before that seemed too long ago now.  
Ashley knew that this was exactly where Kate wanted her head to be at. Dwelling in fear, filled with anger, cursing the Force, and making stupid choices. Kate could have killed her, she had easily rebuffed Ashley's sloppy assault and had her trapped and helpless. Instead, she had fled content to just leave her crying on the floor. Kate had won. So much for being the Order's martial champion.  
The worst part was that Ashley had wanted to kill her. Jedi do not kill. Detached violence was her life, always to stop but never to kill. But now there's a boy in the picture and even that gets thrown out of the window.  
Tears still in her eyes, Ashley blindly turned down an alleyway. If this is what normal feels like, then she wanted none of it. It wasn't any better than being a Jedi. Stuck without a home and running away from both directions, hopeless, afraid, and tormented. Alex had unbalanced her, but Kate had sent her reeling over the edge. Now, for as long as they had her off kilter, her greatest strength meant nothing. She was useless.  
She stopped walking and let the rain poured down her face and bare arms. If she could not fight, she could not protect the Order. It was a trap. Kate was sent to unbalance Ashley so she could not protect Ryan. At least, Jaster would still be able to. That is, if he chose to.  
Ashley looked up to see Jaster's painting. The two rings on the hand of a dark figure looming over a single shining point of light. Jaster had said one was for her, the other was for him. Jaster was going after Alex, leaving Ryan alone and vulnerable.  
Regardless of how she felt, regardless of anything that Kate might say or do, she had to do exactly what Kate did not expect. Exactly what Kate thought that Ashley would never dare to do.

~  
He was going over every word she had said and every move she had made. The little things seemed so important now, but the memories seemed to flee as soon as he recalled them. All he knew for certain was what he wanted, and he only wanted her. Sarah. Nothing else mattered. The will of the Force did not matter, nor the suited man, or the Sith. Nor Jaster, or Ashley, or the President. All he wanted was to be able to reach out, take hold of her, and never let go.  
Sarah. He whispered it again, letting the syllables rolling over his tongue. To him it was a song, a sweet message flying away into the rainy night.  
He didn't want to die when he had something to live for. But choosing love could mean rejecting the will of the Force. Rejecting the Force meant rejecting everything that he was. He was a Jedi Master, what did he think that he was doing trying to reconcile how he felt with his service to the Force? He was not his own, he belonged wholly to the Force.  
Jedi? It means a fragile vessel unable to contain the whole greatness of the Force. It means a light shining before men that they might see and understand that there can be a better world. The vessel does not matter, it can be strong or it can break, there will always be another.  
Master? It's what they called him, thinking that he had some revelation and now some special relationship with the Force that made him stronger. In reality, he did not feel strong. Falling back into the flow of the Force now filled him with more power that he could imagine, but he did not think that made him strong.  
Coming to the apartment complex, he vaulted the gate silently and landed in the parking lot.  
If he was strong, his heart would not feel so divided and his blood wouldn't be pumping so fast. If he was so strong as to deserve a title like Jedi Master, then he wouldn't be so scared, the suited man wouldn't feel so dangerous, the Sith would bow and submit to the will of the Force, and Sarah wouldn't even hesitate before running into his arms.  
He would have to make these things happen. He would show the suited man that the Jedi are true and good, he would redeem the Sith, and he would show Sarah how he truly felt and that he was worthy of her. He knew which one he would do first, but he still wasn't sure if that was because it was the closest, or if it was just the one he wanted the most.  
He looked up and saw the balcony window still lit. Pulling in the rainy night to disguise himself, he crossed the parking lot and leapt six stories up to silently land on the balcony. Looking into the window, he saw her sitting alone still in club wear. In her hand she held the same rose, although faded, from the night that they met. On the table in front of her sat her phone, dark and silent.  
Courage then, he whispered to himself, surely this is the will of the Force. Surely only the Force would let me feel this way.  
He rapped quietly on the window. Her head snapped towards him and her eyes widened.  
As soon as he could will them through his throat, he mouthed three words, praying the silent world had turned its attention away.  
I love you.  
She paused a moment, unmoving, then swiftly rose and ran to the balcony door. As she approached, Ryan unconsciously unlocked the door from the inside and slide it open, stepping inside in time to catch her around the waist just as her arms went up and around his neck.  
Her kiss was like fire, it started on his lips, rolled down through his body, and coursed wildly through his veins. He never, ever, no matter what charged through the door, no matter what happened or what he was called to do, wanted to let go of her.  
Their lips separated, but they did not let go.  
"I love you." He said it again, this time a little louder.  
She stepped back, dropping her hands down into his and began to walk backwards, pulling him deeper into the apartment. Behind him, the door slid closed with Ryan's afterthought. Everything else was entirely focused on her.  
"I let it fall," she whispered as they moved towards the center of the room, "My heart, and as it fell you rose to claim it. It was dark, and I was over, until you kissed my lips and you saved me."  
She brought his hands up and held them close to her chin, looking down and balancing her forehead against his chest.  
"My hands, they're strong, but my knees are far too weak to stand in your arms without falling to your feet."  
She separated from him a bit and smiled a wicked smile, one that washed over him and claimed him as hers.  
"But there's a side to you that I never knew, never knew. All the things you say, are they ever true, ever true? And the games you play, you would always win, always win."  
Then her eyes changed and inside them he saw his words reflected back to him. He felt her mind open and her love flood out.  
"But I set fire to rain! Watched it burn as I touched your face. Will it burn when I cry because I heard it screaming out your name, your name."  
She turned and dragged him down the hallway. Opening the bedroom door, she kissed him again and he relished the fire as it washed away all of his fears and all of his worries. Inside the fire he found himself and who he was, nothing else. No Jedi, no responsibility, no service, and no sacrifice. Just a boy and a girl.  
She let go and pushed him backwards onto the bed. He landed with a soft thump on the comforter as it puffed up around him. Gently she crawled on top of him and bent down, her hands on his face as she kissed him again and whispered into his ear.  
"When I lay with you, I stay there, close my eyes and feel you here forever, you and me together nothing is better."  
He pulled her back down to his lips. The fire had lit a fuse somewhere deep within him and he had never felt less alone. He threw his head back and unleashed something deep inside of him. It emanated out of his heart with a heat and a radiance that he had never felt before, a feeling that rippled out through the Force and into the stormy night.  
She rose and unbuttoned his shirt. In response, he took her by the waist and spun her underneath him, she looked up at him framed by her brown hair and the unbuttoned sides of his shirt and looked happy, truly happy.  
"But I set fire to the rain! Watched it burn as I touched your face. Will it burn when I cry because I heard it screaming out your name, your name!"

~  
Ashley felt a bright flash wash over her. It was pure joy, happiness, completeness, and fulfillment. It was also, without a doubt, him. Ashley did not know what could have caused such a powerful emotional outburst, but she headed straight for it.  
It was so pure. So purely good and raw that it left her tingling and confused as it passed by. She sped up and soon came to the dark apartment building with one light on six stories up.  
This is where he is. It was merely a light to anyone else, but to her it was a blinding fire licking up the walls and threatening to engulf the entire building. She quickly jumped over the gates and let the stormy darkness of the parking lot cover her.  
The shadows followed her as she approached the face of the building and looked up at the balcony above her. She did not know what she would find up there, but Kate's sly clues gave her a good guess and fueled the fear boiling in her stomach. She headed towards the apartment, but then stopped with sudden horrid realization.  
Fear. Shadows.  
Darkness.  
Ashley spun around and drew both lightsabers and ignited them immediately. Around her the world had turned darker and quieter than the dead of night. Across the parking lot and in front of the gate from which she had entered stood a tall figure. Its cloak and hood covered it from head to toe, hiding its face completely. It began to walk forward, its two greaved feet stepping against the concrete were the only sounds against the stormy night.  
Ashley knew what Darkness was, and Jaster's words and worries floated back into her mind. She spoke softly.  
"You are not my sin."  
What difference does it make, Darkness asked, all have sinned and fallen short.  
"What difference? Sin is eternal, hopeless, and inevitable. But you are not my sin, which means there is still time."  
She raised her blades and relaxed back into the Force. There was no time for fear, worry, doubt, tears, or questions. No matter what Ryan was doing in that lit balconied room, Darkness could not and shall not, Ashley promised, pass.  
Her life was forfeit, Darkness will not pass.  
And Ryan will not even know it was here.  
Darkness' cloak opened as if a sudden wind had taken it revealing jet black armor and lightsaber hilt. Darkness gently drew it from its side and snapped it towards the ground as its red blade came to life. Shouldering its cloak behind its back, it pointed its lightsaber at her.  
Ashley stood still, feeling the Force flow through her, quickening her step, lightening her load, and lending its strength to her arms just like it always had.  
Darkness let out a silent roar and charged, its weapon raised for an overhead slash. Ashley caught it with one blade and sidestepped. Bringing the lightsaber point down with her offhand, she swung her mainhand at Darkness. Stepping back to avoid the attack, Darkness forced its saber free and back up to bisect her. Forced to block, the kinetic force of the blow threw her sideways and away from Darkness,  
Ashley hit the ground and rolled away ending up where Darkness had begun. She immediately leapt up to pursue Darkness, who had continued its stalk towards the light. Lunging up at it with both sabers brought together, her strike hit nothing, saved inches by a sidestepped Darkness. Darkness turned its attention back to her and she twirled her sabers into position and advanced with a flurry of blows, each one easily shrugged off by the defending Darkness. The final parry brought their sabers off mark, giving Darkness the turn to attack. Where Darkness had barely budged from her attack, Ashley backpedaled hard from the force of its blows. Where she had finesse and grace, Darkness had both a strength and reach advantage she could not easily counter.  
Deflected a final time, Darkness swung its blade down to sweep her legs. Ashley responded by briefly lifting herself up and sideways to let its blade pass beneath her. While she was still midair, Darkness casually flexed its hand and a wave of Force slammed into her, tossing across the lot.  
Ashley rolled as she slammed into the concrete on the other side of the parking lot, both of her lightsabers knocked from her grasp. Returning to her feet and into a crouch, she looked back at Darkness. Two cars slowly floated briefly just out of reach of its outstretched arms, before it hurled them at her one by one.  
She ran towards them head on. As the first descended she leapt and turned her body over the hood, the body, and then the trunk. It sailed beneath her and crashed with an explosion of grinding metal as Ashley landed, kept running, and stretched out with the Force to summon her weapons back to her hands. As the second car approached she raised her hands above her head, her weapons reaching them just as she leapt, and brought the shining orange blades down to cleave the car in half and carry her through. Blocked by the car, Darkness could not have seen the death blow coming, heralded by the screams of metal on concrete.  
But, Darkness knew. Reaching up with one gloved hand, it caught her as she descended. Turning, it threw her away again and she crashed against the ground. It turned, and continued to march towards the apartment.  
She wasn't strong enough. Again. Again she was going to fail. She had run scared from Alex, Kate had trapped then spared her, and now Darkness was going to pass. If she could not win, how could anyone else?  
She got up on all fours and turned to see Darkness slowly begin to rise off the ground towards the lit balcony. The air began to crackle as blue lightning coalesced around its fingers and dark shadowy tendrils began to creep out from under his hood and cloak.  
Climbing to her feet, Ashley ran beneath Darkness full speed into the face of the apartment, her run continuing as she turned ninety degrees up the wall. Racing along the windows and between the balconies, she reached down to grab the sixth floor railing and flipped down in front of the doorway just as Darkness slid it open with the Force.  
You can't run from evil. If you do, nothing will stop it. She had run from Alex, but that was a failure. May the lightning come, she promised, but it will only pass when I'm dead. So shall this be my sacrifice. She turned towards the floating Darkness.  
It is the will of the Force. Let it burn.  
Arcing through the rain from drop to drop, a hundred streaks of blue lightning laced with shadowy tendrils lanced toward her. She clapped her hands in front of her and spread them to bring the Force up around her. Lightning and shadow danced over the shield and tried to break though. The pressure of the Force was excruciating, a whole river trying to flow out through a single value.  
"Let it burn." She whispered as she took a step back and her shield began to weaken. The first lance of lightning found a way into the shield and lashed against her. She took another forced step back into the doorway and put her hands on the door frame, trying to keep herself out of the apartment. Darkness shall not pass.  
"Let it burn!"  
She joined her body with the shield, taking more and more lashes that cut into her arms and legs and tore through her red dress. She gritted her teeth and resisted with all of her strength. She was called to die at the will and pleasure of the Force and with every second the Force's will seemed to be closer. She wanted to live for Ryan, but if her death meant he lived then so be it then.  
Today. Darkness willed into her mind, Now. Your time is at an end, Jedi.  
"You will call me Guardian."  
It was not her strength or her skill that would let her protect him. It was, as it always was, the Force. She let go of the door frame and fell completely backward into the Force. Trusting it to catch her, she let the river shallow her up and take her away. Instead of the Force simply flowing through her hands and feet, she channeled her whole self into Force and it was so much bigger than she could ever imagine.  
Her shield restored stronger than ever and she pulled herself away from the doorframe. Ashley struggled a step forward, one step placed in front of the other as she slowly marched towards her opponent. The tendrils of corrupted Force energy faded away as they reached the bubble faintly glowing around her burned and bleeding outstretched arms.  
Through her gritted teeth she whispered. Even though her eyes were closed, she saw Darkness hesitate and falter. She whispered again, louder this time, and the attack weakened more.  
"I forgive you!" She cried out and with a mighty shove, the bubble burst forth. The grass and trees rustled and Darkness was gone.  
But not forever, she knew as she turned back to look into the empty apartment. Only for tonight. Whatever he was doing, Ashley prayed it was the right thing, then she floated back down to the parking lot, and collapsed.

~Sandstorm ~

Ryan lay there staring at the ceiling shirtless and on top of the covers. Some of his clothes lay on the floor, and his lightsaber had rolled up against the wall. He looked at it. It was the farthest from him he could remember ever having willingly let it go. Moonlight glint off the polished metal, giving it a lonely sense of forgottenhood. Yet, he had never felt safer.  
Sarah had fallen asleep hours before and her silent smiling face lay inches away framed in rich brown hair, the covers up and barely concealing her naked chest. Ryan turned his head to look at her again, then returned his eyes to the ceiling.  
The room was so warm, an almost unnatural warmth for a room so large. It did not seem to bother Sarah, who looked in perfect comfort as a slow breath blew away a lonely strand of hair. Ryan reached over and gently guided it back behind her ear, and then rose. Swooping down to pick up his weapon, he turned and looked back at her before gently closing the door and going into the living room.  
Jedi did not need to sleep, with the Force there is enough rest in half an hour's prayer and meditation. A silent look inside and an ear to the whispering will of the Force, and Ryan was rested. Sleeping wanted a lot of time, and time was very precious.  
Reaching the living room, Ryan waved one hand and the furniture silently made their way to the walls, clearing the center of the room. With the other, he closed the door to the balcony he had entered the previous evening.  
Strange, he swore he had had the presence of mind to shut it behind him. How impolite.  
Settling in the middle of the room, he began to move through basic unarmed exercises, starting with the simple and headed towards to the complex. Weaving in martial disciplines from all over the world, he drew intricate patterns of violence all around him. In his mind, nameless and faceless foes fell in droves as he dredged drill and sequence from deep within his muscle memory and put them to practice.  
He was very careful to make every movement silent in fear of disturbing his sleeping host in the next room. Leaping into the air to snap kick four invisible assailants, his bare feet landed back on the linoleum floor without a sound.  
He was alive, and burning. He could still feel the lingering warmth of her touch on his chest and lips, the gentle pull of her teeth on his finger, and the cup of his hand on her breast. It felt so new, and time felt so slow. Love was everything he could ever imagine, so perfectly drawn from somewhere deep in his dreams.  
In his mind, an assailant came from an unexpected angle, and Ryan was forced to move on. With a snap hiss, his lightsaber burst into silver and he began to step through various forms and sequences drilled into his reflex by countless nights of lonely repetition.  
One goal was accomplished, he had Sarah's love. He did not know where he was going with it, but he knew that he could not possibly fail now. After this, at the greatest heights of joy and wonder, what could he possibly fail to reach?  
Next he would show the suited man the truth, that in great light all would be revealed to him and he would see the true good of the Jedi. Let the traps, snares, and detractors come, but Ryan would show them all. Even Jaster would have to admit that Ryan was right and the world had a place for them, and Ashley would always be there at his side.  
"That's beautiful."  
Ryan snapped out of focus, and lowered his weapon to his side. Sarah had emerged from her room; Ryan's shirt wrapped around her, and was staring at the glowing lightsaber in his hand.  
"I'm sorry if I woke you."  
Sarah smiled. "Of course I woke when you rose. Why are you out here?"  
He held out his hand towards her. "Come here."  
She immediately stepped forward, her bare feet tapping gently against the floor. Paint her, and one color ends and one begins. Push away the stray, add the finishing touch. Add shadows that dance across her skin then peer beneath all the layers, and recognize the girl she is there. Sought after, trapped like a pearl, and the portrait has captured the girl.  
Taking her hand, he turned her around and placed her hands on the lightsaber, keeping them safely encased in his own. He felt her sharp intake of breath as suddenly all the power was hers.  
"Don't be afraid, fear cuts deeper than swords."  
He gently moved her much smaller hands into a modified two-handed grip that Ashley sometimes used when reduced to one weapon. He let go of one of her hands and brushed her hair behind her shoulder so that he could learn forward to whisper into her ear.  
"Good. Perfect. Now, step one foot back at a right angle, and keep the other straight forward."  
Pressing a hand on her stomach, he used his foot to pull hers back. Under his hand, he could feel her heart and breath quicken and match the thrum of the lightsaber held carefully before her. Returning his hand to cover hers, he slowly began to guide her through the beginning movements of her first sequence. At first she was hesitant, but soon the silver light followed its new master's commands.  
"The blade is weightless, energy is focused through the crystal then the lenses, shooting out into space before polarizing and turning back around for another lap. There’s no balance which makes it difficult to handle, but in return it lends to a whole spectrum of styles and forms."  
"Nerd." She whispered back, before trying to take more control to herself and break out of the sequence of movements Ryan was guiding her through.  
"Careful," he replied, forcing her back into line. 'The weight means it takes practice and care to always know where the blade is. That is the first lesson."  
They reached the end of the sequence and Sarah began to repeat the movements clumsily but deliberately.  
"Why is it silver?" She whispered, her eyes never leaving the blade.  
"I don't know. Some say it's simply the focusing crystal, but I'm not so certain. At some point in the process, it takes something out of you, stores it somewhere deep in the weapon, and shows it in the light that it casts."'  
Ryan guided her through the movement several more times, just listening to her breath as they tracked the weapon in front of them. Then, finishing, she rose the lightsaber up and extinguished it. She turned, clipped it to his jeans, and put her arms around his bare waist.  
"Come back to bed."  
He wanted nothing else. But behind him, morning began to peek over the skyline. There are other matters to put to rest, and then he could give to her all his time.  
"You have touched my soul, you'll never know, but now I have to go."  
"How long will you be gone," She said, unbuttoning her borrowed shirt to return it. Staying was getting more tempting by the second. "And where are you going?"  
"Not long," He said, trying to keep his eyes on target. "I hope. As to where, I do not know."  
She was quiet for a moment, and then gave him leave.  
"I don't want to understand, but I do. I'll give you this one chance to slip away in the night. Goodbye, Jedi."

~  
"How could it possibly be a good idea to let teenagers run around the world with world changing power? Shouldn't they be controlled?"  
The Professor turned to the speaker, a short blonde haired girl.  
"Should they? You know just as much as I do, Ms. Wood."  
She thought for a moment then carefully answered.  
"I don't think they would have a choice, should the Jedi ever reveal themselves, that's all the discussion would be, who and how. The questions would divide and division would lead to war. Who gets the Jedi? The Jedi wouldn't get a choice, and soon leashes would tighten, and the freedom they have will be gone, owed to the winner. That's a world war right there."

~  
They always try to look unsurprised, but they can't hide it.  
When General Clark had slid into the back of the car that had arrived to ferry him to the Pentagon, he had been alone with his copy of the morning post. However, the quiet intense voice from the seat next to him proved that otherwise.  
"Good morning, General Clark."  
By the time that the general let his paper fold over and looked at his new companion, he had already recovered. You'd think he didn't recognize the Jedi, if not for the strong lasting impression Ryan was certain he had left at their last meeting.  
"And to you too..." He paused as his searched for the right honorific. "...Master Jedi."  
The gruff words came awkwardly, like his mouth was making sounds it never thought it would or really believed.  
“Whatever. You don’t trust me, but we can fix that. I’ll help you with your mission to avenge Rosslyn, there’s just one rule. Everyone comes back alive. And by everyone, I mean friend and enemy alike. Everyone.”  
General Clark set aside his newspaper and folded his hands in front of him.  
“This is the military, son, you take orders and you follow them. You don’t get to make deals.”  
“I follow a higher power, General,” Ryan said, turning away and looking out the window at the passing downtown scenery. “One that every death makes weaker. I will not let that happen. I’ll keep your men safe and accomplish your mission. In exchange, no one dies.”  
“Everyone fights for something, Jedi. God or gold, love or hate, and we all set it aside in the name of fighting for the nation. I don’t really care what you fight for, but here you serve your country no matter what it is that your country asks of you.”  
“Not me. I serve the Force.”  
“And your Force says to serve the military? A mortal power?”  
Ryan was quiet. He looked down for a moment, and then turned back to the General.  
“Just tell me where to go. The will of the Force will make itself clear.”

~  
“But something must.” She whispered. “If something didn’t control you then you wouldn’t be so scared.”  
“Scared?” He looked puzzled, holding the rose still. “I’m not afraid of anything.”  
“But you were scared of me. You were scared for me. You think you’re supposed to be dead, it’s not lost on you that no one else has come this far. What controls the Jedi? What really calls the shots?”  
He sat down, and took a moment to look down at the rose between his fingers.  
“Sin.”  
She cocked her head to the side, confused.  
“Sin? But everyone’s a sinner, all have-”  
“-fallen short of the glory of God, I know. But for the Jedi it’s different. This is conveniently forgetting that you serve something far greater than you are. That you can think your way out of it, that you decide and determine your own fate. It’s the sin that you jealously cling to, that you’ve justified in your head a thousand times every night before you go to sleep. It’s hoping that God won’t notice, or that everything you’ve been taught it just slightly wrong, just so you can keep on sinning. This is thinking you don’t have to sacrifice.”  
He breathed in heavily, as if shouldering again a heavy burden.  
“But, instead, we must be reminded, that we have fallen short, and if we do not pay the balance, we will be controlled.”

~  
There aren't any windows on a C-47, so there was nothing to look at except each other. Since he had boarded, they hadn't just been looking. They had been staring. There were twelve of them. Huge, athletic soldiers whom Ryan had already fought at the club, and who had witnessed Ashley’s carnage first hand at the ballet studio. From what Ryan understood, they had been told their plan was changing the day before. Instead of fighting the Jedi, now they were working with one. To the brass, this was the addition of a tactical asset to the team. To them, it was back to square one, and this square one had a teenager they had to look after.  
In retrospect, Ryan shouldn't have expected them to be pleased, especially considering how thoroughly a trouncing they had already received. Twice. However, the silent staring hostility he felt was a bit much. He wasn't here to stop them, he was here to protect them. Their mission was to capture a high value target, and he was here to make sure they all made it back alive. Sure, he was sitting there with no gear, but they knew who he was, right?  
Ryan shifted uncomfortably in his jump seat. It had been hours since they had taken off, and no one had spoken to him. Was this where he was supposed to be? Why was he even here? He was supposed to prove himself. In his mind, he didn't have to prove his service to the light, but in General Clark's mind, nationalism was probably a higher priority. The door from the flight deck opened, and the Sergeant stepped through. Walking down the center partially swinging on the overheard handholds, he shouted to be heard over the roar of the engines.  
"Alright gentlemen, we're minutes from the jump zone. Final briefing. I’m sure you recognize Jedi Master Ryan, he will be accompanying you on this mission, orders from on high." He said this looking right at Ryan. "He has no designated role other than getting your asses back to home."  
"Um, 'jump zone'?"  
"For the drop, were you not briefed, sir?"  
Sir. How polite. Definitely no resentment there.  
"No, I was told nothing, do you..." Ryan felt very awkward now. "um, have a parachute that I can borrow?"  
The officer responded far too quickly and with far too much pleasure in his voice to lend regret to his words.  
"All kit was issued at mission briefing, sir, without a chute it looks like you're headed straight back home."  
Ah, they may not be able to refuse his presence, but they don't have to permit it.  
The Sergeant immediately turned around, then the plane rocked violently as the pilot sharply turned. The Sergeant swung to the cargo door, spun the handle, and heaved the door open.  
"Looks like it's time to move, go go go!"  
The first soldier next to the door got up and swung out the side of the plane, driven by a hard shove from behind. One by one they unbuckled and leapt out of the door. The Sergeant turned to Ryan, a pitied look in his eyes, and prepared to make his own jump.  
Ryan was angry, his seatbelt still fastened at the far end of the plane, starting at the Sergeant and the open cargo door next to him. This wasn't how it was supposed to be, he was supposed to be parachuting down to the ground with good men doing good work and keeping them safe.  
Staying on the plane would get him back home faster though, back to Sarah and the warmth of her room as they lay next to each other, doors shut and nothing else mattering. He didn’t have to go down there, he could stay here, stewing in anger, and then run back to where he came from.  
But, then the suited man's point would be proven, another strike against the Jedi and one step closer to rejection. If Ryan wanted the Jedi to be accepted instead of hidden, he was going to have to take on obstacles a lot tougher than some professionally offended soldiers not wanting strangers in their tight circle. Obstacles a lot tougher than the barely concealed smile of victory on the Sergeant’s face.  
He was not going to run. A Jedi Master does not run. The way back to Sarah was down there. The Force is his ally, and with such great an ally, nothing can stop him. Not even thirty thousand feet.  
Ryan swiftly unbuckled and ran the length of the plane, drawing on the Force and gathering it around him.  
The Sergeant's face turned to shock as the Jedi came barreling towards him.  
"What are you doing-"  
Ryan ignored him and ran right out of the plane.  
The air rushed past him, and he felt at peace falling. The Force's current surrounded him, encased him, and gently readied to slow his descent at his need. Far ahead of him, he could barely see dark parachutes stacked up below as the team dove closer to the ground.  
All save one. Ryan immediately sensed the panic as one chute did not open as intended. Ryan straightened his body and dove through the air faster and faster. Weaving in between bodies, he closed in on the flailing soldier.  
Landing on the soldier's back, Ryan reached down to the broken chute release on top of the backpack and pulled. The release popped, and Ryan tumbled away, twisting out from the expanding chute and continuing his dive towards the ground. Calling on the Force, he began to slow himself down.  
He may not be welcome among them, but he's still going to keep them alive. Just like it's always been.

 

~They’ve got Planes and Trains and Cars~

It was the colors that brought Ashley out of her sleep. They reached out to her with their long shining fingers and gently pulled her out of unconsciousness.  
Her eyes fluttered open and she tried to pull herself off the ground. Her aching muscles were not used to lying still for so long. In the end, they failed her and she collapsed back down to the cold hard ground. She did not know how long she had been lying there, but anytime spent still longer than a few hours was something her body was not used to. She tried to call the Force to revive and reinvigorate her arms and legs, but pain persisted.  
She looked down at them, and then carefully held one hand up to the faint underground light. She carefully examined the long fresh scars that wove up her arms before disappearing under her torn sleeves. Each tendril split and crept like lightning, breaking into fractal patterns following the path of least resistance.  
Then she remembered. Images flooded back to her of standing her ground, her hands gripping the burning edges of the door as the lightning and the shadows tried to pass. She remembered surrendering to the Force, throwing her body at Darkness, and letting it burn. She expected to die, but apparently the Force was not yet done with her. Her sacrifice had not yet come.  
She reached out, but sensed that was no hole in the Force. There was still his bright and shining presence. Ryan still lived. That was all that she had wanted.  
She looked around the room, her neck cracking as she moved. The walls were covered in vibrant painted murals hiding all trace of the concrete canvas hiding beneath. None of the paintings were alone, but rather built on top of and incorporated into the works beneath them. If she looked hard enough, she could peer down layers and layers and see the oldest paint barely clinging to the cement just behind the freshest coat.  
It was an underground cathedral wrapped in color, crafted with care and lovingly tended to by its architect.  
And as Ashley finished her tour, she turned to look at him where he sat against the wall on the other side of the room.  
"You have been asleep nearly for nearly a day."  
"Did you bring me here?" Ashley asked him, still struggling to command her muscles to bring her fully off the ground.  
"Yes," Jaster said, "I followed the flames and found you flat on your face in some parking lot."  
Ashley managed to drag herself off the ground and sit against the opposite wall of the Watchman, his black shirt against the colors making him unnaturally the center of the room. He looked distant and angry, but Ashley knew it was just an act. He had spent his entire life knowing that any day he might be called to kill someone he thought of as a friend.  
Thus that face, a face that said we'll never be close and I'm not going to even try. But Ashley knew there was more to him than that, if not just because of the painting above him. Flashes and streaks of green and orange flew and swirled across the canvas. Close up it was nothing, but take a step back and it was her. Painted and repainted again, a memory imprinted in color of the first time they had met and spared, just like Ryan and Ashley had done only a day and a half previously.  
"Am I supposed to be here?" Ashley asked as the painting guided her step by step through the duel. Viewing the painting made it feel like yesterday, but she knew as soon as she turned away it would return to a faint memory,  
"No. You are not welcome here, but I had no choice. You had to be somewhere safe, somewhere I could watch over you. Somewhere when you woke, you could tell me what happened."  
That was not a request. Jaster had to protect them from themselves, and ever since the moment Ashley had looked into its eyes she knew would have no choice but to tell the Watchmen what he wanted.  
"I saw its face and I threw myself at it, just like you did." She whispered, her words coming out nearly in protest. "I threw everything that I am at it, but it was not enough. It tossed me aside like I was nothing, but I couldn't let it get to Ryan. I couldn't let him know that it was out there."  
"Why that parking lot?" Jaster's determined voice edged its way past the aching pains and into her head, drawing out each word.  
"The apartment building, I don't know why he was there, I chose not to see. I don't know if that was wise, but whatever was happening in that room had drawn it to him. I can only hope Ryan knows what he's doing."  
"He doesn't," Jaster spat, and rose. "He has no idea what he's doing, he's stumbling around trying to twist and turn the world into what he wants it to be with no regard for how it actually is. He thinks he's in control, but he's not. If he opened his eyes just for a moment, guess what is the first thing he'd see marching towards him?"  
Ashley sat silently. She hated that he was right, she hated that his words made so much sense. She hated that she knew exactly what was coming next.  
Jaster held out his hand to her and helped her up. She stood slightly wobbly, but remained upright.  
"It is not time," Jaster whispered, "but it is close. Ryan stands on the precipice."  
For the first time, Ashley noticed that he had been crying. Another tear began to well up in his eye.  
"And when he falls, I will be there."

~  
“That’s a world war right there...very poetic, Ms. Wood. Then how do we stop it?”  
“We?”  
“Yes. Us. We’re smart people and ideas are cheap. How do we stop a violent new world where everyone’s fighting for their slice of the Jedi?”  
The students looked at eachother, murmuring, while the blonde girl considered.  
“I guess... we trust them. There’s no infallible power, I guess we trust the will of the Force.”  
“You mean their interpretation of the will of the Force.” The Palestinian student countered. “Might as well be completely uncontrolled then, better some power we know then a bunch of kids running around thinking they know what’s up.”  
“Like what? The military?” She shot back. “Because they’ve shown such wisdom and care in the past. That’ll make the Jedi the catalyst to chaos faster than ever.”  
She turned back to the Professor.  
“Plus, I don’t think they’d be too pleased with the notion of anything less than the freedom to serve the will of the Force as they desire. We all deserve that right.”  
The Professor stood up from sitting on the desk and looked back at the wall mounted clock.  
“Two excellent points of view, however I doubt this issue is duly served by just two. Think about it, and come back Thursday with more ideas. Class dismissed.”

~  
There it was again, a familiar need. There was some vision, some feeling, deep inside him that needed to find a canvas. He could feel the Force bubbling up inside him and trying to share something through him, trying to escape through his fingertips.  
But he couldn't paint without a little help anymore. He needed the small black case. When he was high, he could just close his eyes and the Force revealed itself clearly to him. He could see the colors flowing through his mind. He could dip his hands into them and watch them seep through his fingers before hurling the colors against the canvas. It was just like when he was first discovering his connection to the Force, the childlike joy at each small lesson.  
That's what it used to be like when he was younger. It wasn't like that anymore, alone it was nothing like what he remembered. It was boring, it was empty, it wasn’t inspired. It was dragging a paintbrush across the canvas, staring at it, then asking "ok, what now?" It didn't flow from somewhere deep within him like when he was high, it was not the Force.  
It didn’t matter if he needed help. What mattered was that it drew him closer to the Force. What mattered was how the will of the Force spoke through him when he painted and not the means to which he got there or the product that it produced. It was a sacrifice in the name of the Force.  
Jaster liked his dealer. He was quiet, consistent, and invisible. Jaster tried not to think about the harm his dealer's products were doing to others. Just letting it happen was another small sacrifice in the name of greater good, another piece of tinder to fuel the fire.  
He was always in the same place, next to the same dumpster in the same decrepit alleyway, sitting hunched over against the same wall, wearing the same oversized coat. Jaster had never seen his face, but he rather that than putting a face or a name to his sin. Jaster was sure he was just another dirty, prematurely old, morally destroyed, grizzled man under the coat who never left the alleyway save to refresh his supply for the next wide eyed thrill seeker. He couldn't matter less.  
Jaster came out from the dark end of the alley way and walked past the dealer, one small black case concealed in his hand. As he passed he felt it slip from his grasp and replace with another, his eyes never leaving forward as he continued on towards the entrance to the street ahead of him. A bit of shame crept up into his heart, as it always did, but it didn't bother him like it used to anymore. It was for the greater good, surely the Force would understand. After all, Darkness isn't coming after him so he must be doing something right-  
Wait. The case is light. Jaster spun around and swiftly stepped back towards the pile of rags behind the dumpster. Towering above him, he held the small black case out and clicked it open, letting the lid flop towards the ground and spill nothing.  
"Do you think this is a joke? Do you think this is funny?" Anger spilled out through the venom in his voice.  
"It's always been empty..."  
The voice that emanated from the oversized coat pooling on the ground below him was smoother, more careful, and younger than he had ever imagined. Slowly it rose from its sitting position and the coat slid off to the ground. Beneath it was a skinny boy with black hair kept barely out of his lightning blue eyes. Shedding the sleeves of his coat, his thinly scared hands returned to their home in the pocket of his dark hoodie.  
"...you just needed to think you had a little push."  
Jaster stepped back dropping the empty small black case, but there was no way to hide now. Alex knew everything. Alex had always known everything. Jaster snatched his lightsaber off his belt and panickedly pointed it unlit at Alex, expecting Darkness to march out at any moment from the shadowed alleyway behind him.  
Alex chuckled, and leaned against the wall.  
"Do you see now? The Force serves you, captured in color and tortured to reveal its secrets. You couldn’t even tell the difference..."  
Jaster could barely hear Alex's words over his fear and shame.  
"Who are you? Who you want to be, who you must be, or some broken half shell of who you’re stuck as..."  
Alex stepped forward so that unlit saber was inches from his chest, daring Jaster to flip the switch. Jaster just stared at him, wide eyed, and brought a second hand up to steady his shaking grip.  
"Come with me. I know what you fear the most... there's world where you can be free.  
Alex stepped past Jaster, who had lowered his weapon without realizing it, walked into the shadows of the alleyway behind him.

~  
"But there is forgiveness, we can all be forgiven." She looked at him. "No sin is beyond the forgiveness of God."  
"Yes, but only when followed by true repentance. You can't play games with sin, you can't have what you want, then beg forgiveness and keep on wading knee deep in evil. Liars lying will continue to lie. Your heart matters, not your words."  
He looked up and looked out the window into the distance.  
"Then, there's more than just asking forgiveness of God, but also forgiveness of each other. We are not the only ones that we hurt with our sin, just as importantly, we hurt those around us that we love. Often, the harm we do to them is more than the harm we do to ourselves. When those who we love forgive us, then can we turn to God."  
"This sounds like something that matters more to priests than to Jedi."  
He looked up at her, and she saw the true fear in his eyes. He gently put the rose back in its vase.  
"I am just as broken as everyone else, but I'm supposed to be an example to the world. When in the shadows, all faults are hidden, but in the light every crack is illuminated. If not repented and purged, it will take a life of its own. Consuming, twisting, and turning you into something new and unrecognizable. It may have your face, but it's only your sin."

~  
Jaster could feel the house's history in the walls as he walked down the dark hallways and gently dragged his fingers along the peeling and burned plaster. There was happiness, there was joy, as well as disappointment, pain, and sorrow mixed into the paint thrown against the walls in great swatches.  
The house itself sat alone on the corner, forgotten by the urban sprawl that had grown up around it. It's burned out husk ignored for years and never torn down and replaced, never allowed a fresh coat to cover its past. Not that it would make much of a difference, no matter how many tear downs and rebuilds the house went through, the scar would always remain, just a few more layers down.  
He could feel the joy of a new birth, a girl. A father’s fear, a mother's worry. He could remember the Force flow into the house and claim the daughter as its own, yet no one came to guide her. As strange things began to happen, the parents became afraid and the small family became more isolated. As Jaster's fingers explored the patchwork of the house's past, he felt another thread join the story. A baby boy. Again the Force came to claim the brother, and again no one appeared to guide him.  
The story led upstairs, snaking its way through the halls and further into the darkened house. As his feet slowly climbed upwards, the story lifted from the walls and enveloped him. Angry, isolated, feeling things they could not understand, soon the threads of the children eclipsed those of their parents.  
The daughter, unable to find attention from her parents, turned elsewhere, and soon found her talents let her manipulate and control those around her. To her, this was freedom, to come and go into the lives of others, giving and taking as she pleased.  
The son found power. Through power, he found strength. With strength, he overcame those around him, victorious over those he deemed lesser. Through victory, his chains were broken. He walked hand in hand with death, leading it as a servant and laughing as it claimed those who threatened his freedom.  
Even with all his freedom, still he stood alone in the wrecked bedroom on the top floor. The ceiling had been torn out of walls and long since flung away in a tremendous unleashing of the power he had found within himself and gleefully used as he pleased.  
Jaster stood in the doorway and stared at Alex, who at his entrance turned his head and smiled.  
"I was expecting to be disappointed..."  
"I had no choice. You know my sin."  
Alex's smile faded and then he slowly turned around to fully face Jaster, his face questioning.  
"How is it sin to follow your desires? You are a mortal being...conditioned to hedonistic yearning...you are only doing as you were created."  
"We were not created this way. We are broken. We know not what we do."  
"Yet you are a hypocrite...if you were not here, where would you be? Some dark corner of the world indulging in the exactly the pleasures that you claim to be above..."  
Jaster stood still and was filled with shame. Alex was right. He was what he hated, and he had fallen into sin because it had given him the only thing he really cared about.  
"It lets me paint." He whispered.  
Alex didn't respond for a moment, then turned and waved his hand. Debris from the bedroom cleared, dust spun into the air, and the wall turned into a grey canvas.  
"Show me."  
"I can't," Jaster didn't look at him. "I need help."  
Alex stepped forward and stood in front of Jaster until Jaster gave in and looked up at him.  
"Why can’t you see? There were no drugs. There was only the Force. Take control of your life back from the Force, then twist the Force until it surrenders to you the feeling you crave... I will say it again."  
"Show me."

~  
Under the cover of darkness, they crept through the sleeping city darting into alleyways just behind the sight of the late night wanderers. Ryan led in front, to the unspoken protest of the soldiers with him. Unburdened, he silently stepped ahead and turned away the attention of any potential observers, allowing the soldiers to arrive at their destination unnoticed.  
It was another broken down building, original stonework crumpled and worn from years of subtle war that had left marks just like this all over the region. As soon as they entered and the door shut, the Sergeant turned to Ryan, barely contained.  
"Alright kid, its nice to see you again, but its story time. Now."  
"First things first," Ryan stepped forward to the Sergeant and glared up at him. "It's Ryan, and I am a Jedi Knight in service of the Order, in case you forgot. Second thing, I'm here for the exact same reason you are. I got a job to do, and I got someone back home whom I love. End of story. Any questions?"  
Ryan braced himself, and as expected, the Sergeant sneered and opened his mouth to begin to yell, but another voice got there first.  
"Sir. He dropped from the bird with no chute, and if it wasn't for him I wouldn't be going back to my baby girl back home. Briefings and plans be damned, I’m glad they’re on our side for once.”  
The Sergeant considered this for a moment and then turned his attention back to the young man in front of him.  
"I guess we're stuck with each other, Jedi. But just so we understand each other, I've seen shit I ain't never seen before from you, but don't you think my eyes have seen the coming of the Lord. Understood?"  
"Understood."  
The Sergeant turned away.  
"Except for whoever our target is, we're not killing him. He comes with us alive. Everyone ends the night alive."  
The Sergeant stopped and turned back around.  
"Those are not our orders, and you're not exactly in any position to be deciding what we do and how we do it."  
"No, Sergeant, we made a deal. No one dies tonight, including the people in this room. I promise."  
"And if I refuse?"  
"It's not really an offer. No one will die tonight, and I will stop anyone who tries otherwise, regardless of who they are." Ryan relaxed his glare. "You've seen enough death and destruction, do you really want to see more?"  
The Sergeant didn't respond at first, and instead carefully calculated his options. Then, apparently with a sudden decision, he turned around to the men who had followed him halfway across the world.  
"We're moving out, Jedi first and follow him in. If the kid says he can get us home, then we'll take that chance."  
Ryan finally let out a breath. No one has to die tonight. They'll return, target in hand, and there won't be much that General Clark can complain about. One less death is a fuller Force and better world for him and Sarah.  
He turned around and set his hand on the doorknob, remembering suddenly the first time that he’d stepped into band practice. There was a song they played, Ryan had loved it. Whenever Ryan played anything, he never forgot it. It became another track on the constantly running playlist in his head, the first place he went to when it was time to fall into the Force.  
Hey there Delilah, what's it like in New York City? You're a thousand miles away but, girl, tonight you look so pretty. Yes, you do. Times Square can't shine as bright as you. I swear it's true.  
High walls safely hid their target from view, but in turn made the compound peak out of the surrounding residential area. The faint breathy glow of a lit cigarette slowly marching the high perimeter guided them towards their goal. Immediately after it floated past, Ryan and the soldiers hit its walls back first.  
Ryan paused, and breathed in. Reaching inside to find the Force, he hesitated, and drew from his love instead. Thinking of Sarah, the Force flowed through him once again and ready to serve his will and take him and his companions home safely. Strength and courage, he thought, and opened his eyes. No one will stand between us, surely this is the will of the Force, how else could he feel so complete?  
Hey there Delilah don't you worry about the distance. I'm right there if you get lonely, give this song another listen. Close your eyes, listen to my voice it's my disguise, I'm by your side.  
Each soldier pulled out their grapple, and aimed it at the top. Ryan simply jumped, scrambled up the side, and then slipped over the lip of the wall landing silently behind the smoking guard. Grabbing the guard’s arm with one hand, he passed his hand over the eyes with the other. The guard went limp, and Ryan gently led him to the ground, his cigarette still carrying on its patrol, but now without its owner.  
Each soldier soon joined him, and the Sergeant tapped him on the shoulder, pointing to a second guard across the field on the opposite wall. One soldier dropped to one knee and aimed carefully, but Ryan waved his hand, lowering the weapon to the ground, then leapt.  
Hey there Delilah, I know times are getting hard but just believe me girl someday I'll pay the bills with this guitar. We'll have it good. We'll have the life we knew we would. My word is good.  
Sailing through the air over the open field and over a private trash burning pile, Ryan landed on top of the guard, who gave a brief yelp before hitting the ground hard and losing consciousness. With the sound, lights inside the private residence went on, and shadows appeared on the balconies and opened fire at Ryan’s racing figure as he crossed the field and bounded from wall to shed to patio to balcony. Each bullet arced into the ground as it passed him. Ryan took no chances that a stray bullet would break his promise.  
The mysterious shadows became two guards, backlit by the light coming from inside as Ryan split a pair of kicks between them, putting them to rest. Below him, the Sergeant and the soldiers barely visible from the light behind him raced across the field towards the front door. Before he could flip off the light, a guard appeared a floor below between him and his companions to take advantage of their momentary visibility. Ryan reached out and plucked him from his perch, pulling him up to his floor and leaving him to join his fellow guards.  
Hey there Delilah, I got so much left to say if every simple song I wrote to you would take your breath away I'd write it all. Even more in love with me you'd fall. We'd have it all.  
If they weren't already, the rest of the compound was certainly on their way. With minimal effort, Ryan flipped off the light switch across the room and leapt down to the lower floor and entered the room. As he did, the door burst open and a guard charged in and opened fire wildly. Each bullet arced into the walls until his clip emptied, and Ryan could Force push him into the door he had entered, dropping him to the floor and putting him to sleep.  
A thousand miles seems pretty far but they've got planes and trains and cars, but I'd fly to you if I had no other way. Our friends would all make fun of us and we'll just laugh along because we know that none of them have felt this way.  
Entering the compound, Ryan raced down the stairs. Quickly into view came a flipped table in front of a large door, two guards crouched and aiming from behind it. They shouted out warnings and turned their weapons on him, but their cover had already betrayed them. The table scooped them up and slammed them into the wall just as the soldiers silently re-joined Ryan. Ryan could sense that only they and one other remained in the compound and that was it. The single life inside was scared and resigned, so Ryan stood aside waved the door open and allowed the Sergeant and his men through.  
Ryan stayed outside, expecting to be joined in a moment by a hooded prisoner and a set of respectful and thankful looks.  
Delilah, I can promise you that by the time that we get through the world will never ever be the same. And you're to blame.  
Instead, he was treated with two gunshots followed by the life of the occupant fading away. A sad, violent, and angry life, but still one he had been promised would be kept. Ryan closed his eyes, whispered for forgiveness, and looked to the sky to see the soul’s final journey to judgement. The Force one life weaker.  
Hey there Delilah you be good and don't you miss me. Two more years and you'll be done with school and I'll be making history like I do. You'll know its all because of you. We can do whatever we want to. Hey there, Delilah, here's to you. This one's for you.  
Ryan watched as his plan fell apart in front of him, everything he had worked so hard to build was broken. He had been deceived. He had to fix it, or he would never see Sarah again.

 

~Come to Your Senses~

"It's about a boy."  
Agent Donovan stopped dragging mats around and turned to look at the young Jedi sitting on top of the folded bleachers. He had very nearly not been surprised when she appeared in the empty gym while he was cleaning up after the evening's sparring. He might as well be used to the idea of fantasy warriors commanding amazing magical powers coming and going as they pleased. However, not in a thousand lifetimes would he have ever expected one to come to him for advice about boys.  
"I'm going to be honest, Master Jedi, I'm a secret service agent. I have about as much of a social life as you do, and there's not going to be a lot that I can offer you."  
She looked at him pleadingly. Donovan didn’t need to be a Jedi to sense her pain, something more than the pink new scars racing toward her chest or the tears in her clothes.  
"...there's no where else that I can go."  
Donovan walked over and sat down next to her.  
"What do you mean? Don't you have an Order to turn to? What about that other Jedi?"  
She turned and glared at him.  
"Oh."  
"Yeah. And emotional attachments are unadvised. Turning to another Jedi would welcome...undo attention."  
"Alright, what happened?"  
Ashley abruptly stood up and walked towards the middle of the gym floor, the words pouring out in a rush.  
"She told me to go tell him how I felt, she knew what I would find when I got there. The light coming from that window was so bright, there's nothing I will ever be able to do to make him feel that way.”  
Reaching the middle, she stopped and turned back around, her arms held close to her chest as she spoke to the floor.  
“She knew, she knew, and she knew that Darkness was coming to take him away and that if I was there I would throw everything that I had to try to save him, I-"  
"Whoa, stop. Please. Please stop," Donovan rose and came towards her. "Please slow down. Who is she? Darkness?"  
As soon as Donovan reached striking range, Ashley grabbed his arm, hyper extended it and pulled him over her shoulder and onto the ground.  
"Ow. What was that for?"  
Ashley's face came into view, looking confused.  
"Do you not fight when you talk?"  
"What? No. Generally, if someone wants advice, you listen and talk to them. With no arm bars.”  
"Oh. In the Order, if you want to talk then you have to fight while you talk."  
Donovan sighed, and then abruptly spun his legs into her chest, pushing her off and away.  
"Start from the beginning,” He sprung off the ground and into a guard. “Who is she?”  
"She's a Sith. Her name is Kate. She’s a liar, a deceiver. She draws people in, chews them up, and spits them out again behaving in exactly the way she wants them to."  
She pushed off the ground and floated into standing position, and charged at him, fists flying. Donovan caught the first and the second.  
"Why did you let her?"  
She was getting angry. She crossed his arms over and turned them out and grabbed them both in one hand.  
"I didn't let her. She got to me. She played on my fears and turned my strengths against me. She could have killed me, but she didn’t. She just left me with her taunts."  
Donovan kneed her in the stomach twice, and then threw her behind him. She tumbled to the ground. He was starting to get the hang of this.  
"Those are still just words. Why did you let her get to you?” He asked, circling around towards her.  
She pounded the ground and got up on one knee.  
"She kissed me, alright? And then she told me there was no way that I would ever have the boy I love."  
"Did you tell him?"  
He could tell she was surprised that the word had slipped from her mouth so easily. Almost as surprised as she was at how he had just ignored it. She jumped high into the air and kicked at him three times, each one deflected as he ducked beneath her. She landed, turned, and retreated, expecting a follow up attack, but he was still standing there.  
"If you didn't love him, you wouldn't be here. And when you get to my age, love doesn't surprise you as much anymore. Have you told him?"  
“No,” she whispered. “When I finally mustered the courage, he was with someone else.”  
She slowly advanced, and so did he. Jabbing and parrying, they probed each other's defenses. He liked this. The other agents are going to be shocked when they get punched in the face the next time they want a raise.  
“It doesn’t matter. You have to tell him anyway. Otherwise you’re wasting his time and yours. It’s not fair to keep how you feel all bottled up, because it’s only going to get worse. Love will only become more love, or turn into hate.”  
Ashley pushed a strike aside with the palm of her hand and stepped inside his reach. She elbowed him in the stomach, and then spun down kicking his legs out from under him and tossing him to the ground. She slid over him and pulled his arm behind his back.  
“What if doesn’t work out? What if he doesn’t feel the same way that I do?”  
“Then that’s life!” His voice was slightly muffled by the hardwood floor. ”Oh, you love someone that doesn’t love you back? Congratulations, get in line. Either he’ll come to his senses, or he’ll be duly honest in return. Anything less means nothing worthy of you.”  
Ashley let him go, and he crawled away, breathing hard. He made it to the wall, and sat up against it. Ashley was still standing there, considering what he had said. After a minute, he asked his next question.  
"Who's Darkness?"

~  
"I am my own sin. I am my own worst enemy. I am the darkness that hides inside, it is entirely me. Committed by me, made by me, and someday it will claim me. As it has every other Jedi before me."  
She shook her head in disbelief.  
"Is this real? Visions appear to you when you fall short of a perfect example, leading you on until you can't tell real from unreal anymore, until your own inner darkness emerges to destroy you. It can only be stopped by sacrificing yourself, or forgiveness from the people you've hurt. Wow. None of this is real."  
He knelt down in front of her, and took her hands in his own.  
"I'm real. I promise I'm real, with no signs of slowing down."  
"But not forever. Can't you stop it? Isn't there something you can do?"  
"Can you defeat yourself? Even if you win, you've lost." 

~  
The painter is constrained by the tools that he owns. The painter relies on the sweep of the brush, the ripple of the canvas, and the pigment of the paint. The painter is the servant of his tools, who begrudgingly lend to him their strength.  
Jaster is not limited by such small constraints. His tools serve him. Everything is a color, the world is his canvas, and the Force is his brush. Whether he requires the thick spread of paint, or a light drizzle of color, his paint serves him. His only constraint is the true reality that the works we use to express the world are but mere shadows. That works alone are far too small to express of the beauty of the Force. That does not mean that he will not try.  
First the flame, the silver flames that rose from baseboards and through the crevices of the wall, reaching into the shattered ceiling and licking the sky. The peeling wallpaper and cracked plaster became tongues of flame threatening to engulf what little remained of its host.  
“Watchmen...if he finds out what you’ve done, he will come for you...but who is he to speak? How can he judge your small crimes from atop of his mountain of sin?”  
Next came rubble. So much rubble. Dark and grey shapes grew from the floor around him, piling up against the flames as paint flew across the wall. Soon, each rock had its own story. Some pristine white masonwork scarred black, desert limestone painted red, apartment brick broken and cracked. He pulled the color from the room around him, from the stairs that he ascended, and from the grim despair and sadness that pervaded the entire house.  
“You know that soon the time will come when you will have to confront him. You will have to either bring him back to the fold...or destroy him. You know you will have to serve out your oath, Watchmen.”  
Jaster’s shut eyes filled with tears as he traced the familiar contoured lines of the Guardian, lying near gracefully atop of the shattered altar. Her red dress ripped and torn, her fractal scars glowed white hot as they reached up to her cauterized neck. He nearly convulsed as he painted her lonely head, eyes rolled back in fear, loss, and terror.  
“You know that you cannot do this…You know that you are far too weak, and he is far too strong. You know that to confront him is to sacrifice yourself. That the Force will call your name, and your answer must come borne on your shattered body.”  
Kneeling, he began painting at his heart. He painted outward, the color coming from inside him as he traced his own severed arms, his broken legs, and his anguished face bent over and defeated at the feet of his failure. His weapon lay cleaved in two and dead at his feet, the final defense of a world now bowed to its new dark master.  
“You know these are visions of the future. You know how powerful your master has become and how far he is willing to go to protect what he loves. And now you know how soon the world will see him for what he truly is.”  
Jaster opened his eyes, fell away from his final work, and curled up against the far wall. Alex knelt in front of him and gently lifted his chin.  
“Watchmen...you do not have to die. Come with me, and we can be free. I will show you the way.”

~  
To Ryan’s surprise, not a single person looked up when he tore open the tent flap. Officers pored over maps and computers while lieutenants moved papers back and forth. The military machine in progress, and across the map covered table and in the center of it all was General Clark.  
Ryan had accompanied the body on the evac helicopter all the way back to the base. He felt that his failure’s eyes had been staring right back at him the whole time through the white linen covering the corpse. Landing on the far end of the camp, he had marched through rows of tanks, humvees, helicopters, and countless restless soldiers straight to the command tent.  
He burst in past the guards, who hadn’t even flinched. Ryan expected a much more significant response to his breach in protocol, but instead he was greeted with business as usual. How dare they.  
“General Clark.” He said. The general did not respond. Instead, he absentmindedly licked his thumb and turned the page on the intelligence briefing that he was reading. Ryan stepped forward again, and placed his hands on his hips.  
“General Clark.” He spoke louder this time.  
The general slowly lifted his head, and then causally saluted. “Master Jedi, welcome back. Mission accomplished.”  
“We had a deal, General. No one dies.”  
“That’s not how the army works, Jedi,” General Clark looked back down at his papers. “In the army, we follow orders. We also salute superior officers when addressed.”  
“I do not serve the army, I serve the Force.”  
“Whatever makes you feel better, son.”  
Ryan stepped up to the table and slapped his hand down on the map, tearing the General’s briefing out of his hands with the Force and bringing his attention straight back to Ryan.  
“You will attend to me when I speak, General. We had a deal.” Ryan’s voice came out in a rumble that turned the room silent and brought the guards’ attention to him. Hands cautiously went towards weapons and every eye was on him. Just as it should be.  
The general studied him, before speaking.  
“Yes, we did, Jedi. We agreed that no one has to die. You are correct, but to protect, some threats have to be removed. Not the vague evil of which you preach, but a real threat to national security.”  
“All life is precious to the Force. Even the ones you don’t agree with.”  
“That’s my problem, not yours. Here you follow orders. You have proven your value, Jedi. You will be called on when you are needed.”  
Ryan was enraged. He was not a tool of the army, not a tool of any mortal body. He belonged to the Force and to the Force alone. No one had the authority or power to tell him to do anything, much less to take the life of another living human being.  
“Dismissed.”  
The word hit him across the cheek like a slap. He did not move.  
The General looked up.  
“I said ‘dismissed’, soldier. Do you need help leaving?”  
The two guards behind Ryan stepped forward, their hands on the butts of their rifles, and grabbed his arms. Ryan centered himself, breathed in, and let them turn him around and take him forward just a few steps, just enough to make them think that they were in control. Now, moments from the tent flap, Ryan stopped. The soldiers looked at him. He spoke quietly, but his voice echoed through the heads of everyone in the room.  
“Do you really think that you can keep me here?”  
“Yes.” The general said, not even looking up.  
Ashley stared up at the DEVELOPING NOW banner flashing across the TV screen. We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you this breaking news report. Smoke curled everywhere around the military base as the embedded reporter spoke breathlessly about the destruction arrayed around her. A crack of weaponry made the camera spin towards the sound revealing a familiar silver light reflecting off the smoke. Ashley pressed herself against the glass looking into the silent bar where every patron’s eyes matched hers, and whispered.  
“You’re on the air. I’m underground. Signal’s fading, can’t be found.”  
Ryan planted himself on the ground and pulled his captors around him, slamming them into each other before throwing them out of the tent. He turned around to see several sidearms raised and aimed towards him. Map markers and papers flew through the air as he summoned the table up as a shield to defend himself from the open fire. The table began to splinter from the impacts, so Ryan sent it flying forward, crashing into Clark and his command staff.  
Alarms began to blare as Ryan sprinted out of the tent. Already, soldiers were running towards the chaos, and seeing him they began to open fire. Ryan ignited his lightsaber and stepped into the storm, vaporizing bullet after bullet.  
“I finally open up. For you I would do anything. But you’ve turned off the volume just when I’ve begun to see.”  
Ryan advanced as more soldiers came into view, while the ones in front of him began to retreat into cover around barracks, humvees, and storage containers. They began to spread out, encircling and flanking him. He could not possibly defend all sides at once, so he reached out and grabbed a storage container, bringing it about him in a wide circle knocking out cover and sending soldiers diving out of the way.  
“Come to your senses! Defenses are not the way to go and you know or at least you knew that everything’s strange, you’ve changed and I don’t know what to do to get through. I don’t know what to do.”  
Ryan tried to replace his rage with calm. These men whom he had saved, these men who he was willing to serve and protect would only accept his aid on their terms. No one lays out terms to the Force. The Force wills and the Jedi obey. A cooked grenade sailed towards him and began to expand and explode. Ryan surrounded himself with the Force, absorbing the heat and shrapnel and sending a column of flames into the sky. The remaining energy funneled into and strengthened the faintly glowing shield of kinetic energy around him. Shots hit and slowed like through water, giving Ryan the time and attention to wreak destruction throughout the base.  
“I have to laugh. You sure put on a show. Love is passé in this day and age, how can we expect it to grow? You as the knight, me as the queen. All I’ve got tonight, is static on a screen.”  
The temporary base buildings began to shake and lift off the ground, causing a chorus of warnings to run through the camp as they flew far and away from the sudden battlefield. The base was in chaos as Ryan marched across the parade grounds, one hand was raised directing the slowing growing field of debris orbiting him, the other his lightsaber turning bullets into nothing more than ash and smoke.  
“Come to your senses, the fences inside are not for real if we feel as we did and I do. Can’t you recall when this all began? It was only you and me, it was only me and you.”  
Smoke began to fill the camp and block out the early morning light, plunging the base back into darkness. Disguised by the smoke, Ryan descended on a group of advancing soldiers, knocking each out and to the ground before leaping to the next, only traceable by the silver glow that followed him.  
“But now the air is filled with confusion. We’ve replaced pair with illusion. It’s cool to be cold, Nothing lasts anymore. Love becomes disposable, this is the shape of things we cannot ignore.”  
Ryan heard the roar of heavy weaponry and twisted his body out of the way as the red hot tank shell flew underneath him. Sprinting towards the source, he dived underneath the next round and pushed off the ground into a spin, shearing the barrel of the tank right off. Landing on top, he defended himself from another wave of fire, before driving his blade into the hatch, cutting it open, and pulling the crew out with the Force, tossing them to the ground in a heap.  
“Come to your senses, suspense is fine if you’re just an empty image emanating out of a screen. Baby, be real, you can feel again, you don’t need any music box melody to know what I mean.”  
His position revealed, Ryan was unsurprised to hear the helicopter blades roar. He started running, dodging in between the hail of heavy caliber fire coming from above. He heard a loud whoosh as a rocket left the wing and flew towards him. Ryan leap, letting the rocket swirl around him, before sending it to the sky to explode. Using the pilot’s shock to borrow a humvee, Ryan keep it floating between him and the helicopter and continued his rampage.  
“Deep in my eyes, what do you see? Deep in my sighs, listen to me! Let the music commence from inside, with not only in one sense, but use all five.”  
Ryan was now out in the open with fire incoming from all directions as the soldiers realized their cover was more dangerous to them than helpful. Spread out, they could maintain pressure while Ryan could do very little to stop them without killing them. Time to leave. Ryan began gathering the Force around him, trusting it to keep him safe and take him home. Surely this must be the will of the Force.  
“Come to your senses!”  
The whipping winds of a storm, the jarring cold of a sudden drop, a bass note to wake the dead.  
Ashley turned her attention from the TV and around to see Ryan staring across the square. His eyes were locked in rage and anger, preparing for the coming confrontation.  
“Come to your senses,” Ashley whispered. “Come to your senses!”  
Ryan did not seem to hear, but only moved forward, his presence glowing in the Force, a bright torch of holy anger in the glowing morning light.  
“Come to your senses,” She shouted after him, staring at the White House to which he marched, “Please come back alive!”

 

~They’ll Never Bring Us Down~

Crossing the square wasn’t hard. Jumping the fence, turning away the attention of the Secret Service, and arriving on the portico also was not hard. It never was. Ryan kept his back to the wall, and peeked into the window of the oval office.  
Turning the handle on that door, however, would be very hard. Looking into the eyes of the President would be even harder.  
The President sat alone at the desk that dominated the room. As Ryan watched, the door to the Chief of Staff’s office opened and a man that Ryan vaguely recognized entered the room, greeted the President, and handed him a small note. The President stared down at it unopened for a moment, set it aside, and stood up calling out his assistant’s name. The far door opened, held for the suited man to step through, a grim look on his face.  
The assistant shut the door behind him, and Ryan slipped through the windowed door and closed it quietly.  
“He will come to you next.” The suited man warned.  
“I’m already here.”  
Both men turned to look at him, pausing at the sight of his grimaced face. Ryan centered himself on the anger. Anger fueled by the rage of being used against the will of the Force, by betrayal, by the arrogance that he could be caged up like some animal and only released against the enemies of the state.  
“Master Ryan-”  
“Did you know this was going to happen?” Ryan circled around the desk and confronted the President with no effort put into polite pretenses. “Did you know that I was going to be used, and then expected to say my thanks and leave?”  
The President stood up from his desk, placing his knuckles on the dark wood as he leaned forward to speak to Ryan. The note lay carefully folded below him.  
“No, I did not, Ryan. I trust my generals to use the resources I give them wisely.” He said carefully, “However, nothing can excuse the actions that you took.”  
“I defended myself from your vain attempt to control the Force. I served.”  
“If you truly cared about serving, you would have stayed.” The suited man could barely maintain his somber demeanor with his barely concealed smile. “If you truly cared about protecting the world, you would have thanked the General for the opportunity.”  
Ryan rounded on him next.  
“You set this up from the beginning! This is exactly what you wanted. On live TV too, I’m shocked you’re not popping bottles.”  
“No, it’s what you wanted. You wanted the world to see you for who you truly were. Just take a look around, Master Jedi, they know now. And they’re scared. You can’t hide the truth. You just weren’t prepared for what it really was.”  
“It’s hard to take your words seriously when they’re up on the teleprompter, written by your pet Sith!” Ryan sneered at him.  
The suited man just smiled, ignoring Ryan’s accusation had just made Ryan look petty. Ryan spun back to the President.  
“Are you going to let this man turn you against me?”  
Ryan looked at the President with pleading in his eyes, but all that was in the President’s eyes was disappointment.  
“You attacked my citizens in front of the world. You have left me with no choice.”  
“Then tell them otherwise! Take to the people and tell them the truth! Tell them no one died and no one controls the Jedi.”  
“It’s not nearly that simple, Ryan. The TV tells them the only tale they will hear.” The President looked at him almost pityingly. “I warned you. I warned you that you were going to have to make a choice. You’ve made one and you have to live with the consequences. And now, you’re going to have to make another choice. Do you know what this note says?”  
The President picked it up and opened it, as if just to make sure it said what he already knew.  
“I can guess.”  
“It says the joint chiefs are waiting for me in the situation room expecting a directive to respond.” The President looked up from the note at Ryan, and added weight to his words. “Am I going there alone?”  
“Not with me.” Ryan responded immediately. “This is a lost cause. If this will not happen my way, then it will not happen at all. The world isn’t ready for the Jedi, and somehow I don’t believe anymore that it ever will.”  
Ryan stalked to the suited man and looked right at him.  
“And no one can control me, not even your dark puppet masters. Soon the Guardian will come upon them, and nothing will stop her. They will see the light, or be destroyed.”  
“Not before she comes to you.”  
In front of the main double doors that led to the hallway stood Ashley. Red dress still torn, black hair still tangled, fresh scars creeping up her arms and into her sleeves. Her eyes were filled with sadness, and they stared right at Ryan.  
“Why couldn’t you have stayed calm for once, instead of flying off the handle!”  
She stepped forward into the middle of the room to meet Ryan, as if they were the only ones there.  
“I hope you’re happy,” She shouted, “I hope you’re happy now that you’ve hurt your cause forever. I hope you think you’re clever!”  
“I hope you’re happy!” Had Ashley even turned against him? “I hope you’re happy too, groveling in submission.  
“Although I can’t imagine how, I hope you’re happy right now.”  
“Ryan, listen to me. You can just say you’re sorry. You can go with the President, get what you’ve worked and waited for. You can have all you ever wanted.” Then her voice turned to a whisper, “And there’s something I need to tell you.”  
“I know.” Ashley’s eyes lit up with Ryan’s cracking voice, his dreams of a light unto the world were falling apart before his eyes. “But I don’t want it. No, I can’t have it anymore.”  
“Something has changed within me. Something is not the same.” Ryan turned to the President. He thought he was his friend. Guess not. If the President, who had witnessed first-hand the Jedi’s strength, could not trust him, then he didn’t even want to try to gain it anymore.  
“I’m through with playing by the rules of someone else’s game. But it’s too late for second guessing, too late to go back to sleep. I’ve got to trust my instincts, close my eyes and leap.”  
Ryan circled towards the suited man, with no intention of ever seeing or speaking to him ever again. This puppet of the Sith who had poisoned everyone against him, he was actively tearing down everything that Ryan had worked so hard to build.  
“It’s time to try defying gravity, I think I’ll try defying gravity. And you can’t hold me down.”  
Ashley grabbed his arm and tried to turn him back towards her. His friend, his loyal friend who had always been there for him, his sword arm against the darkness, his brightest light in the shadows.  
“Can’t I make you understand?” She looked back at the double doors she had entered through, and Ryan could feel her fear. “You know what lies outside that door! I know you know exactly who’s cold, dead, grey eyes you’ll see.”  
Ryan went cold, and looked up at double doors. His sin had come to extract its heavy toll. How long had Ashley known? He could feel the darkness gathering behind them. The Force was finally demanding his sacrifice.  
But how could something that felt so right and felt so pure be sin? How could love be a sin? How could the warmth of her room, the touch of her hand, and the love in her eyes be anything less that the full glory of the Force? He had seen and felt the light itself. Surely, oh surely, this must be the will of the Force.  
No. He refused. He wasn’t done yet. There was still a way out. He relaxed, letting Ashley let him go. He looked back at her and took her hands in hers. Her mouth curled opened and her eyes alight with hope.  
“Ashley, come with me. Think of what we could do, together. Unlimited, together we're unlimited. Together we'll be the greatest team there's ever been.”  
She leaned closer. Her eyes were sparkling in the morning sun rising behind him.  
“There’s no fight we cannot win, just you and I defying gravity, with you and I defying gravity, they’ll never bring us down!”  
He would not be alone. He knew who would always be there, who would also help him. Who would always come to his aid, whose duty it was to never falter, never surrender, never give up, and never give in. She would rise with him to challenge the deterrents.  
Together, he and Ashley would defeat the Sith. Together, they would make the world safe for him and Sarah.  
“They’ll never bring us down.” Ryan smiled, then came back from his dream and returned to Ashley. “Well, are you coming?”  
Ashley’s eyes slowly faded into realization, and then slowly dropped, as she gently pulled her hands from his and backed away.  
“I hope you’re happy,” Ashley whispered, dejected, refusing to meet his eyes. “Now that you’re choosing this.”  
“You too,” Ryan’s voice couldn’t have felt emptier, now even Ashley was abandoning him. “I hope it brings you bliss.”  
Ryan turned around and walked towards the double doors, feeling hollow and knowing full well, as Ashley had assured what he would find on the other side.  
“I really hope you get it,” Ashley wished after him. “And you don’t live to regret it.”  
“I hope you’re happy in the end.”  
Ryan opened the doors and stepped through into the long hallway outside, turning around to look at her.  
“I hope you’re happy, my...friend.”  
Ashley closed the door behind him. Ryan briefly placed his hand on the door, and then prepared to face his sin alone.  
Spinning around, Ryan drew his silver lightsaber and pointed it in front of him. At the end of the hallway stood a familiar tall figure cloaked in a black cloak concealing black armor, a long red lightsaber alit in its hand. It began walking forward with one step faster and farther than the last as it began to charge, its metal greaves clanging against the floor as it raised its saber to bear. Ryan was not afraid. I created you, he thought, you are as much of me as I am of you.  
The Force is my ally, he remembered, and with it we go bravely into battle, knowing we have won the war.  
“So if you care to find me, look to the sky! If I'm flying solo, at least I'm flying free. To those who'd ground me, take a message back from me.”  
Ryan began to run towards Darkness, his steps growing longer and turning from bounds to leaps. As he approached, he looked up into the face of Darkness and saw his own broken dead eyes, his grey skin, his black hair, and his own face corrupted and torn apart by years of sin. He had failed the Force, he had acted in anger and rage and the Force had called in its debt. For every little lie, every little moment of hate, every wandered eye, every act of violence, for every wretched evil the world had painted white. For each, he owed his life, the wages of sin is death.  
But today was not the day to face judgement, Ryan decided. Today was not the day.  
Ryan had someone to live for.  
Ryan landed on his last bound, Darkness feet away with its weapon raised to bring his short life to its predicted end.  
“For nobody in all the world, no Sith or sin that there is or was is ever going to-“  
Ryan planted his feet in the ground, and summoned the Force. It came so fast, it came so strong, it came in a way that made Ryan know that he could do anything, that the whole might of the Force was at his beck and call. There was more than just hope in the name of Jedi, there was a promise.  
“-bring-“  
The ground rippled below him, tile cracked and carpet ripped as shock waves rolled through the foundations of the building. Cracks spiked up the walls as they bowed out and down to the master of the Force.  
“-me-“  
Ryan glanced up past Darkness and the ceiling of the White House hallway gave way, blowing up and out until only the morning sky could be seen above him.  
“-down!”  
Ryan launched, shooting past Darkness and straight into the air. He did not come back down, the Force’s wings continued to carry him farther and farther away from his sin.  
Ashley stood on the portico, leaned on the railing, and craned to see him flying through the sky above her, paying no attention to the room behind her.  
“I hope you’re happy.” She whispered, watching the boy she loved fly away, knowing now full well that he didn’t love her back, but loved someone else instead.  
Flying in a great loop, Ryan circled back to look down at the wreckage below him. Darkness was gone.  
Ryan didn’t stop. He kept flying, knowing the whole world could see him. Let them. He knew exactly where he was going.

~End of Act One~


End file.
